


The Price

by ivorydice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Brief suicidal and self-harm thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mostly introspection, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Rape Aftermath, Self-Worth Issues, Sexual Coercion, everyone is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 05:26:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorydice/pseuds/ivorydice
Summary: “We didn’taskfor your help,” Gladio snapped, eyes narrowed and dangerous, sneering.Ardyn smiled at him. “And yet you needed it,acceptedit, all the same. And I am more than happy to help you,” he looked over each of them, his eyes trailing over their group until he finally let his gaze land on Noctis, and his smile turned into something a little more dangerous, his eyes turned into something more reminiscent of the night before, “for aprice.”Ardyn's price for their safe passage is a high one, and it threatens to break them all apart when Noctis has no choice but to pay it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I can finally tick this story off of my list.
> 
> This has been a difficult one, not only because of its contents, but because of how _stubborn_ it was. I had this perfect plan, it was supposed to go in a certain way, certain things were supposed to happen, and the fic did not agree with any of it. So this has turned into something I didn't quite expect, but I think I'm kind of okay with it? ~~Even though it's a fucking mess lol, I'm done with this, you can have it in all its messy glory~~
> 
> I have to thank [Kibasdaydreams](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kibasdaydreams) for encouraging me to get this one done, for listening to me rant, and for helping to inspire me for a few scenes. It helped sososo much, thank you <3 <3
> 
> Please adhere to the warnings and tags and everything. If you think I need to add any other tags, then feel free to let me know.
> 
> Also, I feel the need to say this lol, but these chapters are long. Like, really long? I broke it into two because it was just ridiculous, but I didn't want to do any more than that since I needed it all to flow together. IDK lol.
> 
> Okay, I think that's everything <3

  
  
Why had he ever agreed to riding in the car with this _Ardyn_ guy?  
  
Of course, the others had objected to the idea straight away. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they kept running into this man, especially when it was in the strangest of places and at the most suspicious of times, and his friends had clearly been uncomfortable with the idea of him being left alone with the guy. Hell, _he_ had been uncomfortable with the idea.  
  
_“Come, please do give me the honour of joining me for the ride. Your friends can follow behind in your own automobile. We’ll have a convoy, of sorts.”_  
  
But Ardyn had said he could take them to the Disc and, considering Noctis just wanted the headaches to _stop_ already, he hadn’t really found the energy to turn him down. So he had just nodded and practically collapsed into the passenger seat, dismissing his friends’ concerns.  
  
Too bad, because it seemed like Ardyn would never shut up.  
  
“—Oh, and the _chocobos_ , have you _seen_ the chocobos? Why, just adorable creatures, they’re—”  
  
“Mm-hmm.” Noctis managed to tune it out again. Even listening to Ignis drone on about _recipes_ was better than this. He had been under the impression that they would talk about something _important_ , such as the Disc, or who, exactly, this Ardyn guy actually was, or perhaps he would have felt the need to show Noctis some sort of respect, seeing as he was the leader of their group.  
  
But, no, here he was, rambling about chocobos and his car and other totally unimportant things.  
  
“Are you quite all right?” Ardyn said suddenly. “You must forgive an old man for his incessant rambling, as you can no doubt tell it has been _far_ too long since I have had some decent company travelling alongside me.”  
  
Noctis opened his eyes and watched the passing scenery, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind.” He _did_ , but there was no harm in being polite, right?  
  
“Though I suppose you are used to it,” the other man chuckled. “Travelling with those friends of yours, I’m sure your drives are rarely quiet. The blond boy seems like quite the talker, and I imagine the lad with the scar isn’t against having his own opinion heard loud and clear.”  
  
Noctis frowned. Was it simply a lucky guess that he had managed to portray them so accurately, or was there more to it than that? Gladio had certainly made his presence known to this guy, both at Galdin Quay and back at Lestallum, but was that enough to pinpoint such a detail about him?  
  
Was he just reading too much into it? Maybe these headaches and visions were just getting to him.  
  
“Yeah, I guess we’re all a little noisy,” Noctis said.  
  
Ardyn chuckled. “Are you? My, that is an interesting thing to say.” Was it? Noctis wasn’t quite sure, and he found himself frowning again at the look the man sent him. “And I bet the noise, nor the fun, never stops.”  
  
If by fun he meant the hunts, the being on the run from Niflheim, the constant fighting for their lives, the scrounging for cash, the injuries, the days without showers when they had to camp, then _sure_. The good times were rolling, it was non-stop fun, they were having the time of their lives, such endless, _endless_ entertainment. “Yeah, I guess,” he said out loud.  
  
A flash of pain sparked through his head, stinging his eyes, and Noctis squeezed them shut, fighting back a groan as he rode it out. He breathed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping he wouldn’t throw up. Ardyn’s car was a hideous thing, but puking in it wouldn’t fix that.  
  
A hand rested on his leg suddenly, just above his knee, and Noctis jumped, glancing down at it as Ardyn said, “Are you certain you’re all right?”  
  
Noctis stared at that hand, willing his body to not be so tense, except he could _feel_ the heat of his fingers through his jeans, and it was making him more than a little uncomfortable. Noctis swallowed, trying to act as casual as possible as he said, “Um, yeah, thanks, I’m fine.” He gently pushed at Ardyn’s wrist while he moved his knee away.  
  
Ardyn smiled, taking his hand back, but it almost seemed as if he let his fingers linger a little longer. “Just making sure,” he said, and then he focused on the road again.  
  
Noctis turned back to watch the trees going past, fighting the urge to find the reflection of the Regalia in the side mirror and, once again, had to question why he had ever thought it was a good idea to sit in the car with this man.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Noctis kept his eyes closed as he stepped under the shower spray, revelling in it as the water ran down his face. The day had been hot, uncomfortably so, and nothing beat a shower to get rid of the grime and sweat that built up.  
  
Although it was a little hard to enjoy it so much, when his head felt like it was about to explode. He almost wished it would, wished he could be done with the headaches already, but, hopefully, that would come soon enough. Tomorrow, when they would reach the Disc.  
  
When _Ardyn_ would _take_ them to the Disc. Noctis had almost asked him why he had to take them there, why he couldn’t just give them directions and then be on their way. Surely they could get there by themselves?  
  
But, no, it had practically been an _order_ , the way he had said he would take them there. There had been no room for questioning him, for backing out. It was either go with Ardyn, or perhaps not at all.  
  
Whatever. He didn’t want to mull on it any longer, not when it made his head hurt even worse. Noctis ran his hands over his face and through his hair, and he bit back a groan. Whether it was a pained sound or not, he would never live it down if Gladio or Prompto heard any noise from him. They would instantly accuse him of jerking off, and then the teasing would go on all night.  
  
It had happened before, after all. The idiots.  
  
He found himself rolling his eyes and smiling, shaking his head with fond amusement. There would be no backup from Ignis either. He would have thought that it was a good thing Ignis always seemed so serious, so _mature_ compared to the rest of them, and he seemed like the type to step in, put an end to whatever petty squabbling they had, but, no, he was just as terrible for the joking and the teasing and the sharp remarks.  
  
_Idiots_. The lot of them, they were _all_ _—_  
  
A noise at the door. Noctis paused, frowning, trying to listen for anything else past the sounds of the shower. There _had_ just been a noise, hadn’t there? Something soft and barely audible? A sigh maybe, or something soft brushing against something else.  
  
Could he hear _breathing_ at the door, or was that just his imagination? It was hard to tell with the roar of the shower and the way it splashed onto the floor.  
  
Noctis hissed as pain spiked through his head again, right through his eyes, although, blessedly, without any disorientating visions this time. So much for the relaxing shower. And, considering he had been the first one to jump in, he couldn’t even stay in long. He had to be mindful of his companions, leave some hot water for them, otherwise Prompto and Gladio would be bitching all night.  
  
So he rinsed out his hair and washed the soap away from his body, then shut off the water, stepping out and drying himself with his towel. He paused, again wondering if he could hear something near the door. It was probably just his imagination. It had been a long day, and these visions certainly weren’t helping.  
  
He chanced a look at his reflection as he dressed, then quickly avoided it. Gods, he looked _haggard_ , a little pale, bags under his eyes, the skin dark with shadows. He looked exactly like how he felt - like shit. The sooner they got to the Disc and stopped these visions, the better.  
  
He had a few texts from Prompto. Noctis rubbed at his hair with the towel in one hand and flicked through his phone menus with the other. The first message had been just before his shower, a simple, _‘Where you at? Wanna come to shop with me?’_  
  
He found himself snorting at the second message, sent only a moment later, _‘Ahhh too busy jerkin off in the shower lol nm!!’_  
  
He was going to kill him, the cheeky asshole. Noctis typed up a reply, wishing his head didn’t hurt so much or he could come up with something witty, and he opened the bathroom door—  
  
And nearly walked straight into Ardyn.  
  
“Oh, dear me!” Ardyn exclaimed. “My apologies, I assumed the water closet was empty with the lack of any noise, and, I must say, you gave me a fright.”  
  
“Sorry,” Noctis mumbled, but all he could think was _did he really just call it a water closet?_  
  
Who the fuck _was_ this guy?  
  
“Good to know the shower works,” Ardyn murmured, and he was holding his hand up, fingers brushing along the edges of some of Noctis’s hair. “You can never tell with these places. I find it’s always a bit of a gamble.”  
  
Noctis moved his head away, as politely as he could since they still needed to make nice with this guy, but, gods, did he have to stand so _close_? Ardyn was practically crowding up to him, right in his personal space, so close he could feel the man’s body heat. It had a lump forming in his throat, a cold shiver running down his spine.  
  
“Yeah, well,” Noctis cleared his throat when his voice came out too weird, and he tried to act as normal as possible as he shifted around the other man. “Bathroom’s free if you need it now.”  
  
“No, I don’t need it now,” Ardyn smiled.  
  
Noctis blinked. “Oh, uh, okay,” he gestured towards the open door, to where he could hear his friends’ voices outside. “I’m gonna, uh—”  
  
Ardyn still looked amused, watching him patiently as he stumbled over his words. “Yes,” he said, “you don’t want to keep your friends waiting.”  
  
Noctis nodded and quickly turned away, tossing his towel down somewhere, _anywhere_ , he didn’t _care_ where it landed, and he headed for the door, fighting back a shiver at the idea that Ardyn’s eyes might be following him the entire time.  
  
The others were outside, sitting together at the table. They were acting as if everything was normal, but there was no mistaking the way their shoulders were tense, the way they seemed ready for battle. Being so close to a stranger, a highly _suspicious_ one at that, did that to them.  
  
Noctis tapped Ignis on the arm as he passed him, jerking his head in an indication for him to follow. Gladio and Prompto looked curious as they walked a fair distance from the caravan, just out of earshot, but they didn’t follow.  
  
“Is something wrong?” Ignis was frowning at him, his eyes concerned the moment Noctis had collared him.  
  
Noctis grimaced and rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like a whiny five year old as he said, “Do we _have_ to stay here with Ardyn? I mean, can’t we just go to a campsite while he stays here?”  
  
Ignis raised an eyebrow. “ _You_ want to go camping?”  
  
No, he didn’t. If he had the choice, then he would prefer to stay in the caravan, but if _Ardyn_ was going to be there— “Yeah, actually, I do.”  
  
“Why?” That look was back in Ignis’s eyes, more intense now, his shoulders tensing as if he sensed danger. “What’s happened?”  
  
“Nothing,” Noctis said. “I just—he’s _weird_. I’ve got a weird feeling about this, and I don’t trust him.”  
  
“None of us trust him, Noct,” Ignis replied. “And under any other circumstances, I would be more than happy to accompany you to a campsite. However, Ardyn did foot the bill for _all_ of us, and it would be in poor taste to walk out on him.”  
  
Noctis snorted and looked away. “Right,” he said. Ignis wasn’t wrong, though. He might not have been the best at politics and diplomacy and all that, but he knew it wouldn’t be wise to brush Ardyn aside when he was apparently going out of his way and doing them a favour by taking them to the Disc.  
  
Ignis was still staring at him, frowning again. “Are you certain everything is all right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Noctis turned back to him, smiling, even if it felt a little fake. “I just had a bad feeling, that’s all. It’s nothing.”  
  
“Nothing about this gives me a _good_ feeling, to be quite honest,” Ignis offered him his own smile. “Stick close, though. There’s no need to cause yourself any more stress after the day we’ve had.”  
  
“Right,” Noctis repeated, nodding. “You’re right. The visions are probably just making me freak out about nothing.”  
  
“Well, with any luck, those should end tomorrow,” Ignis said. “Come, we’ll get something to eat and try to relax for a while.” He motioned for Noctis to start walking, back to the caravan, back to where Gladio and Prompto were still eyeing them while having their own conversation. Noctis allowed himself to be led, letting the hand against his back ground him. “You have nothing to worry about,” Ignis said.  
  
Noctis wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded anyway.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Whether it was because of his anxiety about going to the Disc tomorrow, his headache that just wouldn’t seem to go away, or whether it was because of having Ardyn sleeping in the same caravan as them, he wasn’t sure, but it definitely wasn’t the most fun experience he had ever had.  
  
Noctis bit back a sigh and climbed out of his bunk. Prompto was fast asleep in the bed above him, Gladio and Ignis were also deep under in the opposite bunks. Ardyn had opted for the small couch, had claimed he had no preferences of where he slept. He had stated he felt ‘ _the heroes of the journey_ ’ needed better beds than he did.  
  
But, as Noctis quietly made his way through the camper, Ardyn was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Whatever, the man could do as he liked, just as long as it was away from them. And perhaps that was a little bit of a dick thing to think, but something about that guy rubbed Noctis the wrong way. So it was better that he was out of sight.  
  
Out of sight, out of mind, right?  
  
Noctis fought back a groan and pressed his hand to his head as he stepped outside. The Regalia wasn’t too far away from the caravan, and he walked towards it as quietly as he could considering how late it was. Their spare first aid kit would still be in the trunk, and, hopefully, there was still some sort of pain medication inside.  
  
He tried to be as quiet as possible - every sound seemed so damn _magnified_ at night, what was up with that? - and he rooted through the trunk until he found the box. There _was_ a bottle of medication inside, and Noctis quickly opened it up, swallowing two of the pills dry.  
  
It probably wouldn’t do much at this point, but surely it couldn’t hurt to try.  
  
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he closed the trunk, surprised to find Ardyn suddenly standing next to him and, _fuck_ , where had he come from? How come he hadn’t made a sound? Was Noctis _that_ out of commission that he could be crept up on right now?  
  
“Apologies,” Ardyn smiled at him pleasantly. “Did I frighten you?”  
  
Noctis stared at him and swallowed. “Didn’t expect to see you there, that’s all.”  
  
“No?” the other man’s hand reached out to trail along the edge of the trunk, fingers tracing along the metal carefully, almost _caressing_ it, as if the car was _delicate_. “Something on your mind, then?”  
  
“My head hurts, that’s all,” Noctis muttered, eyeing those fingers.  
  
“Ah, yes, the Archaen,” Ardyn said. “Well, never fret, we’ll be there tomorrow and you can put a stop to those pesky headaches.” He looked up at Noctis suddenly, tilting his head as he regarded him. “I could help you, if you wish? I know a thing or two about pain relief.”  
  
Ardyn’s tone seemed awfully strange at that, and Noctis fought down a shiver. “No thanks,” he muttered. “I should probably get back—”  
  
“Oh, it’ll only be a moment or two,” Ardyn’s smile was back, amused, his eyes shining as he stepped closer to Noctis.  
  
Noctis held himself completely still, more surprised than anything else when Ardyn’s fingers came to rest on his temples, pressing slightly. He didn’t know where to look, didn’t dare try to meet the other man’s eyes, and he found himself simply staring ahead, at the man’s chest, as those fingers started making circles on his skin. They slowly moved into his hair, travelling downwards until they were near the base of his skull, rubbing circles into the flesh there, and Noctis hated that it actually felt rather relaxing. It felt _good_.  
  
He found his eyes slipping closed, almost clenching his jaw when Ardyn chuckled. “My, my,” he said. “Someone carries a lot of tension. Not really a surprise there, though. A king carries more burdens than everyone else in the world combined.”  
  
“A king?” Noctis opened his eyes again, staring up into that strange gaze. “Who said I was a king?”  
  
“But you are Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Ardyn replied easily. “It’s a little hard _not_ to recognize you. You’re all over the news, did you know that? Many are now reporting on you travelling around in your beautiful car, saving damsels in distress, that sort of thing.”  
  
Well, it probably _had_ been rather obvious who he was right from the start. If Dino had recognized him on the spot, then there was no reason that Ardyn hadn’t been able to either. And now, after everything, it was probably even more obvious about who he was.  
  
And it was like Ignis had said - he couldn’t stay dead forever. Kind of a shame, really.  
  
“Burdens are terrible for such young shoulders,” Ardyn said suddenly. “It simply ruins the posture. Allow me.”  
  
Noctis shifted, uncomfortable as those hands suddenly drifted lower, sliding down until they were cupping his shoulders underneath his jacket. “No, I’m fine,” he said, and he grabbed at a sleeve as the hands squeezed at him.  
  
“You’re not.”  
  
Noctis bit out a sigh, looking over at the caravan, but the door was still closed and there were no signs of any movement inside. The entire place seemed deserted. He couldn’t see anyone as he looked around, not even over at the store. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” he asked.  
  
“Me?” Ardyn smiled. “Why, I was simply stargazing. I find it helps take my mind off of things. They are such a beautiful sight, after all, hard not to forget your troubles and simply marvel at them.” His voice seemed to change then, it lowered, grew quieter, as if it was supposed to be _intimate_ , and those hands squeezing his shoulders became more gentle and caressing. “Not as beautiful as _this_ sight, however. They pale in comparison.”  
  
Strangely enough, his first thought was about how fucking _lame_ that sounded. Then it truly hit him what Ardyn was implying, and the uncomfortable feeling cranked up to eleven. Noctis swallowed. “You know what? Thanks for the, uh…” he winced, he didn’t really want to say _massage_ , even though that was what it was. It just sounded weird. “Yeah. I, uh, I’m gonna—”  
  
The hands on his shoulders pushed him back a little as he tried to step towards the caravan, still gentle, although a little more insistent. “What’s the rush?” Ardyn murmured. “I thought we could spend some time together, chat a little. I am doing you a favour, after all.”  
  
“No thanks,” Noctis shook his head. “I’m tired, I’m gonna sleep. You should too.”  
  
He only managed to take a few steps further before those hands were on him again, pressing him into the side of the Regalia, and Noctis frowned, glared at the man. “Knock it off,” he hissed.  
  
Ardyn was simply smiling at him, as if he _wasn’t_ practically harassing him at this point, as if everything was perfectly fine about the situation. “Why are you running, I wonder?” he asked suddenly. “Are you afraid?”  
  
“No,” Noctis snapped. “I want to go and fucking _sleep_ , now get _off_ _—_ ” he pushed back at Ardyn, clenched his hand into a fist, thought about hitting him. But then he was being shoved back against the car again, the other man’s hands fisted in his jacket and pinning him there, Ardyn’s lips suddenly on his, and Noctis couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—  
  
What the fuck? What the _fuck_?  
  
Ardyn was _kissing_ him. Tilting his head up with one of his large hands, tongue slipping past his lips, and Noctis found himself frozen, out of shock more than anything else. Then those hands trailed down and gripped at his waist, pulled him close so their bodies were pressed together, and that was when the anger and the _fear_ kicked in.  
  
He turned his head, managed to break away from the other man’s mouth, but those lips just trailed down his jaw, down his neck, and Noctis shivered at the feeling of a _tongue_ sliding along his skin. “Don’t,” he gasped. He stared at the caravan again, wondering if he should shout for help, get Gladio to beat this guy’s ass, but they _needed_ him to get to the Disc in the morning, it always came down to the _fucking_ Disc.  
  
So he settled for slamming his hands on Ardyn’s shoulders again, trying to shove him off, except he was so much bigger and stronger, keeping him pinned to the car. “Get _off_ of me,” he hissed out. “Get the _fuck_ off.”  
  
“Oh, Noctis,” Ardyn chuckled into his throat. “The moment I laid eyes on you, I _knew_ I had to have you. I knew you would be simply _perfect_.” His head was lifting again, pressing a kiss to the side of Noctis’s mouth. “Why, you were practically _made_ for me,” he murmured.  
  
“Don’t,” Noctis said, and he hated how _shaky_ his voice was when it came out. “I _swear_ , make another move and I’ll fucking _scream_ , I swear to—”  
  
“No, you won’t,” Ardyn replied, as calm as ever. “Screaming is so very beyond you.” He raised one of his hands and brushed it along Noctis’s cheek, his fingers warm against his skin, his touch as gentle as it had been along the metal of the car. “We both know you are no damsel in distress.”  
  
And then he was coming closer again, his mouth against Noctis’s, trying to kiss him, but he froze suddenly, eyebrows raised. Noctis glared at him, holding tight onto the gun he had just pulled from the armoury, and he shoved it harshly into the other man’s groin. “No,” he said, swallowing thickly, “but I’ll blow your fucking balls off if you don’t let go of me.”  
  
Ardyn smiled, actually _smiled_ , as if he was _amused_ , as if this was any normal conversation, but he stepped back, widening the distance between them with his hands held up in a mocking gesture of surrender. Noctis kept his gun out, had it pointed at him as he backed towards the caravan.  
  
He didn’t put it away even when he was back inside, but he kept it hidden. He pressed a hand over his mouth as he slipped inside the tiny bathroom, trying to cover the sounds of his gasps, his hands shaking as he simply stood there and leaned back against the door.  
  
What should he do? Fuck, what should he do? Should he tell the others? Should he go and wake them, have Gladio or Ignis—  
  
What, have them _guard_ him? Protect him from some old guy that had just felt him up? It sounded pathetic even as he thought it, and Noctis bit down on his knuckles as shame crept inside. He was _stronger_ than this, he could have fought him off a lot easier than that. Hell, he had probably _encouraged_ Ardyn by letting him give his massages.  
  
He could hear it now, Gladio’s voice already in his head, _“You let that guy feel you up like that, he’s giving off all sorts of red flags and warning bells, and you’re_ still _surprised he tried something?”_  
  
But he hadn’t know, he _hadn’t known_ Ardyn would take it that far, that he was _interested_ \- oh _gods_ , and wasn’t that a sickening thought - in Noctis that way, that he apparently _wanted_ him enough to use force.  
  
He had known the guy was a fucking creep, but this was beyond what he had actually expected.  
  
Noctis sighed and hung his head. He couldn’t tell them, _any_ of them. If they didn’t get mad at him for letting that shit happen, then they would get mad at Ardyn, and, unfortunately, they needed him.  
  
After splashing some water on his face and checking the mirror to make sure he didn’t look any different, he made his way over to the bunks and slipped back into bed, keeping the gun with him the whole time, trying to calm himself by listening to his friends breathing and snoring nearby.  
  
He didn’t sleep, and Ardyn didn’t come into the caravan.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
In the morning, Ardyn smiled at him pleasantly, as if nothing had happened, watching as Prompto dragged Noctis around the store for some snacks before they set off. “Good morning to you,” he said.  
  
Noctis only grunted in return, quickly turning his gaze away.  
  
“Man,” Prompto muttered, leaning close to him until their shoulders bumped together. “That guy gives me the creeps.”  
  
“You and me both,” Noctis muttered back.  
  
“Well, I guess what do you expect when you dress like _that_ ,” Prompto whispered, and Noctis frowned for a moment, confused, before he realized his friend was still talking about Ardyn, “I mean, _hello_ , what is this? Dumpster-chic or something?”  
  
_Or something_ , Noctis thought, fighting back a wince. “Got everything you want?” he said out loud.  
  
“Yep,” Prompto nodded. “Go and pay the guy, okay, I’ll tell Iggy we’re nearly ready to leave.”  
  
Noctis tensed, about to protest, about to suggest that _Prompto_ pay for their supplies and _he_ would go and speak to Ignis, but Prompto was already running off, out of the door and halfway across the parking lot before Noctis could even balance all of the things his friend had dumped into his arms.  
  
And Ardyn was still there, leaning against the wall. Noctis thought he could feel his gaze on him, but it could have just been his paranoia.  
  
He took a breath, remembering that there were other people around - a few other customers and the store clerk himself - and so it wasn’t like Ardyn could do anything here. Too many witnesses. And, more importantly, Noctis had to keep it together, he had to act normal.  
  
So he tried to remain as casual as possible as he passed Ardyn and headed to the counter, dumping the stuff there and waiting as the clerk totalled it up.  
  
“Is that everything you need?”  
  
Noctis fought back the urge to cringe away from that voice suddenly murmuring into his ear. He wondered if anything showed on his face or in his eyes, wondered if the clerk was glancing up at him because he could see how suddenly uncomfortable he felt. “Yeah,” Noctis said, clearing his throat. He played with the edges of a packet still yet to be added to the paper bag. “We’ll be ready to head out soon, so you probably want to make sure you’ve got everything too.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary,” Ardyn said quietly, his lips still near his ear, his body close as he stood just behind him. A hand touched Noctis’s back, fingers burning hot through his jacket and his t-shirt, and they slowly trailed down, down, down, along his spine, playing near the small of his back, but, surely, he wouldn’t go any further than that. “I already have everything I want right here,” he whispered.  
  
The clerk wasn’t looking, wasn’t saying anything. Couldn’t he _see_ what was going on? Couldn’t he see the way Noctis was fighting back his shivers, the way he fought to keep his face normal? How could he be so oblivious?  
  
Or maybe he _could_ see, maybe he thought Noctis _wanted_ this, maybe he thought it was normal for Ardyn to have his hands on him in such a public place. As the clerk finished packing up the paper bag, Ardyn said, “Don’t worry about your things, I’ll pay for them.”  
  
“I got it,” Noctis muttered. “We’re not _that_ desperate.”  
  
“Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”  
  
Noctis snatched the bag up, clutching it to himself as he pulled away from the counter, marching out of the store without another word as Ardyn cleared up the price. First the caravan, and now their supplies? Just what did he _want_? What did he get out of bringing them to the Disc and paying for their things?  
  
What the fuck did he _want_?  
  
His friends were still so suspicious of Ardyn as they gathered their things together, and with every _right_ to do so now that Noctis knew what a creep he was. If _they_ knew what had happened last night and the way he had just acted in the store, he doubted Ardyn would even be _conscious_ right now, let alone sauntering towards his pimpmobile as if he was a gift from the gods themselves.  
  
“Will I be blessed with your company this morning, then?” Ardyn called over to him suddenly.  
  
Noctis scoffed and ignored him, heading straight for the Regalia. No one said a word as he shoved the paper bag into Ignis’s arms and then sat behind the wheel, but he could still feel the confused glances they were sending his way as they climbed in after him.  
  
“Everything all right?” Ignis murmured to him.  
  
Noctis clenched his jaw and nodded. “Just wanna get this over with.”  
  
The sooner they got it over with, the sooner he could leave Ardyn behind and forget about him.  
  
It felt better to be in the Regalia. His hands were tight on the wheel as he drove, his knuckles white, and he stayed silent as the others talked. It probably wasn’t the best idea for him to be behind the wheel, not with his significant lack of sleep and his pounding head, but it gave him something to do. At least he was able to concentrate on something else, something other than the memories of those fingers and those lips, insistent pressure that made him feel nauseous.  
  
And so what if he just kept thinking about ramming the Regalia into Ardyn’s car? It wasn’t like the guy wouldn’t deserve it.  
  
“You, uh…” Prompto glanced up at him after a while of silence, fiddling with his camera, “You okay there, buddy?”  
  
Noctis glanced at him. “Fine. Why?”  
  
“You’ve been kinda grouchy all morning.”  
  
“Headache,” Noctis said simply. He glanced up briefly at the rearview mirror, taking in Ignis’s and Gladio’s concerned eyes.  
  
“I don’t suppose that Ardyn guy gave you any clues about who he is yesterday?” Gladio asked.  
  
Noctis snorted at that, because _oh yeah_ , Ardyn had _definitely_ done that last night. Noctis knew more than enough about him now. “No,” he said out loud. “He mostly just rambled at me. It was boring as hell.”  
  
“The three of us speculated yesterday whether he is of the Empire or a Lucian,” Ignis said. “We couldn’t quite make up our minds on the matter.”  
  
Prompto made a small noise of agreement. “The guy’s kind of a hard one to pin.”  
  
Noctis shifted, flexing his grip on the wheel. Why did he feel so uncomfortable in his own skin, more so than usual? How could a few simple touches send him reeling, turn his whole world upside down until he didn’t know what to think? It made him nervous, that Ardyn had such power over him.  
  
He fought back the urge to hit the steering wheel out of sheer frustration, and he fought back the _terrible_ urge to tell them just what kind of person Ardyn really was. “Yeah, well,” Noctis bit out, “he didn’t tell me anything.”  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Of course he was from the Empire. Of fucking _course_ he was. ‘A man of no consequence’. What a fucking _joke_.  
  
Noctis hung his head even before he heard Ignis’s sharp cry of, “Imperial _Chancellor_ Izunia?”  
  
Great. So not only was he from the Empire, but he was _high up_ in Niflheim’s government.  
  
“At your service,” Ardyn called down, as cheerful as ever. “And more importantly, to your aid.”  
  
Everything in Noctis screamed at him to run. There was no way any of this could end well, not after last night, not after this morning, not when Ardyn was clearly a creep, not when he was the fucking _Chancellor_ of gods damned _Niflheim_.  
  
But there was nowhere to run.  
  
“I guarantee your safe passage,” Ardyn said, and he was looking at Noctis, his face almost soft. “Though you’re always welcome to take your chances down there. Buried among the rubble, is it?”  
  
And Ignis, damn him, _damn him_ , was looking at them, at _him_ , with grim acceptance. “Dying here is not an option,” he said. “We have no choice, Noct.”  
  
As if they could trust a fucking Niff. Noctis stared at him, wondering if Ignis would say the same thing if he told them all about last night, about Ardyn’s hands on him, about his _insistence_. But they simply didn’t have the _time_ , and this was certainly no safe place to have such conversations, lava still shooting up like mini explosions, the heat so intense he thought he might combust with it.  
  
And there was every chance there were other Niffs hanging around, waiting for an opportunity to attack them, ready to jump down on them if they didn’t get on board Ardyn’s ship.  
  
“I know,” Noctis said.  
  
  
~&~  
  
  
“Come, come,” Ardyn beckoned at them as they clambered up the ramp. “Quickly now!”  
  
Noctis tried not to look at him as they reached the top. Ardyn barely acknowledged him as he turned, heading through a door at the opposite end of the ramp.  
  
_We shouldn’t be here_ , Noctis wanted to say. He wanted to grab them and haul them back off, find some other way to escape the crater, but what other option was there? How could _this_ be the only option?  
  
And he watched, tensing his legs, struggling to keep his balance as the airship started to lift and the doors began to close, the only known way out sealing off. It was such a strange feeling to be standing still in one of these things while it moved around.  
  
“Well then,” Ardyn’s voice drifted over to them as he returned, coming to stand nearby. He was either ignoring or completely oblivious to the death glare Gladio was giving him, and the more subtle one Ignis was sending his way. “What an eventful day! Is it always like this for you boys?”  
  
“Can it,” Gladio said. “Why are you helping us? What’s your motivation in all this?”  
  
Ardyn smiled at him. “Must everything have an ulterior motive?”  
  
“When it comes to Niflheim, then _yes_.”  
  
“No ulterior motive,” Ardyn said. “No tricks up my sleeve, no nasty surprises. I’m merely helping you, that’s all.”  
  
Gladio didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh.”  
  
“However, we do have one _small_ matter on our hands now,” Ardyn said, clasping his hands together as if this was a friendly meeting, as if they were all gathering together for _coffee_ instead of fleeing the Disc of Cauthess after Titan had very nearly killed them all.  
  
The others were glancing at each other in confusion, eyes wary, but Noctis had a creeping feeling spreading through his veins and he stared in silence.  
  
“Uh, what’s that now?” Prompto said.  
  
“Well, I am the _Imperial Chancellor_ ,” Ardyn replied, and he held out a hand to them, ever so dramatic, dear _gods_ , what was with this guy and his overdramatic gestures? “And you are _Lucian_ citizens, important Lucian citizens no less. Why, if any of my comrades were to discover that I had assisted you, _multiple_ times, well then that certainly wouldn’t be very...favourable.”  
  
“We didn’t _ask_ for your help,” Gladio snapped, eyes narrowed and dangerous, sneering.  
  
Ardyn smiled at him. “And yet you needed it, _accepted_ it, all the same. And I am more than happy to help you,” he looked over each of them, his eyes trailing over their group until he finally let his gaze land on Noctis, and his smile turned into something a little more dangerous, his eyes turned into something more reminiscent of the night before, “for a _price_.”  
  
“A _price_ ,” Ignis echoed, and his tone was sharp and disgusted.  
  
Gladio scoffed. “And you said you had no ulterior motives. No nasty surprises, huh?”  
  
Ardyn held out his arms, as if to placate them both. “I might be helping you out of the sheer goodness of my heart, but I’m afraid not everything in this dear old world of ours can come for free. And, well, if I was to be given _payment_ for my generosity, then my comrades might very well look the other way and ignore this whole matter entirely.”  
  
“But you’re the chancellor,” Gladio said. “Shouldn’t you hold more than enough influence for others not to question you?”  
  
“Perhaps, if we were all as _considerate_ as Lucis.”  
  
Noctis closed his eyes as the arguing continued, shivering as that horrible feeling turned his body into ice, slithering under his skin, because the others might not realize it _just_ yet, but there was obviously only one _payment_ Ardyn could possibly be after. There was no doubt about it, not after last night or this morning and _certainly_ not after the way he had just looked at him.  
  
_You don’t waste any time do you_ , he wanted to say. _Barely on this airship for five minutes and you’re already demanding this, you asshole._  
  
He had to wonder if Ardyn had _planned_ this all along. Would he really go so far just to corner Noctis like this? Was he _that_ perverted?  
  
“So what’s this payment?” Prompto asked. “What is it you want?”  
  
Gladio crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “It can’t be money. I’m sure you’ve got enough of that and you gotta realize we’re not exactly swimming in wealth right now.”  
  
Ardyn shook his head and waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, heavens no, I have no need for money.” He seemed so cheerful, so _pleasant_ and considering. Except then he turned back to Noctis and tilted his head, even _swayed_ slightly, as if they were more like innocent and playful schoolboys, as if they weren’t enemies, as if he wasn’t much older than he was, as if he wasn’t acting like some sort of pervert, as if he hadn’t been _harassing_ him. “I’d say a simple continuation should suffice.”  
  
Prompto was frowning, glancing over at Noctis, biting his lip. “Continuation of what?”  
  
“I think he knows.”  
  
He was going to throw up. He was going to hurl right there and then, on a gods damned imperial airship, with his friends’ lives unspokenly at stake and the Chancellor of fucking _Niflheim_ demanding his body as payment for safe passage.  
  
But what other choice did he have? Ardyn hadn’t said as much, but it was _very_ clear that if he didn’t do this, if he didn’t go along with his wishes, then he and his friends could very well land into a lot more shit than they were already in. He acted so polite, so friendly, as if he wouldn’t do a harmful thing to them, and yet Noctis remembered the near violence of last night, the force.  
  
There was something _dangerous_ beneath the surface, and it was better not to let it loose.  
  
And what did it matter? If he was reading Ardyn right, then it was just _sex_ , it was just his _body_ , it wasn’t as if he was demanding their surrender or their lives. So what if Noctis hadn’t actually been with anyone before, so what if the very idea of letting Ardyn have his way with him left him shivering and nauseous.  
  
The price for safe passage could be a lot worse than _this_.  
  
“Fine,” Noctis said, but his voice came out weak, breathless, shaky. He looked up and met Ardyn’s gaze, ignoring the fact that everyone else was staring at him. He couldn’t bear to look at them, he couldn’t bear to see the disgust in their eyes once they realized what was going on. “Fine, I’ll do it.”  
  
“Uh, do what now?” Prompto cut in, head whipping back and forth between them, eyes starting to look a little panicked.  
  
Noctis ignored him. “You have to guarantee you won’t lay a hand on any of them,” he said. Ardyn raised his eyebrows and held his hands up, as if in surrender, exactly like he had done last night and, yeah, _that_ was annoying. “You have to _swear_ it. You won’t touch any of them in _any_ way, and if I do this, you’ll drop us off somewhere safe. Not in Niflheim, not into some ambush, not off a fucking _cliff_. We’ll have a _safe_ passage to _somewhere safe_.”  
  
“Oh, Your Majesty,” Ardyn looked almost proud of him. “You have my _word_ , my promise, my absolute _oath_.” His eyes raked over him, completely unashamed, and Noctis held his head high, fought back his shivers. “You hold up your end of the deal and you will all be left unharmed. You shall remain here in Duscae.”  
  
Noctis nodded. “Good.”  
  
“Wait,” Prompto cut in, his voice suddenly weaker, trembling, “not good. Are you asking for what I _think_ you’re asking?”  
  
Gladio’s eyes were even more malicious. “You’d better not be, I swear to fucking—”  
  
“Come now,” Ardyn regarded them with a smile, “We’re all adults here, there’s nothing to feel so _offended_ about.”  
  
“You are certainly wrong there,” Ignis scoffed, and his tone was like pure _venom_ , “Is it common practice in Niflheim to require sexual favours in exchange for something else?”  
  
Ardyn raised his eyebrows again. “That would be prostitution, would it not? Are you insinuating that your king is a prostitute?”  
  
Noctis flinched. Ardyn noticed, his eyes flicking to him, that ever-so-present smile still on his face and still just as annoying. Noctis had to wonder if it was a tactic, meant to throw them off guard.  
  
Ignis had gone silent, and he looked very, very pale.  
  
Gladio seemed close to bashing someone’s skull in. “So, what, is rape not a felony in Niflheim then? Gotta say it’d be fitting with you scumbags.”  
  
Noctis felt himself freeze at the word, at that simple little word, so harsh and unforgiving, and, gods, he had to put a stop to this now, he had to stop this before things could get even worse, but then Ardyn said, “It’s my understanding that isn’t rape if both parties want it.”  
  
Noctis could only stare, gaping at him as the chancellor turned those eyes on him, as _everyone_ looked at him when Ardyn said, “Do you want to be the one to tell them about our little rendezvous last night, or shall I do it?”  
  
What the _fuck_? Why would he say that? _How_ could he say that? How could he stand there and blatantly _lie_ about last night, act as if that whole thing had been consensual?  
  
The answer came rather easy. Ardyn was playing with them, _all_ of them. This was all just some fucking _game_ to him.  
  
“Noct,” Gladio said, his voice low, but Noctis couldn’t read his expression when he looked at his shield. “Noct, what’s he talking about?”  
  
Noctis fought back his hysterical laughter - and what suspiciously felt like tears - because of _course_ Ardyn would say something like that, of course he would place that idea in their minds, and Noctis couldn’t even begin to think of how to fix it, of how to convince them of otherwise. He wasn’t sure if he _could_ , if, instead, he had to play along with Ardyn, if he had to keep up that particular charade in the hopes of getting them all out of there.  
  
“You understand what I mean, don’t you?” Ardyn was teasing Gladio now. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? Is it too much for your pitiful brain to comprehend?”  
  
“Stop it,” Noctis managed to get out. He ran his hands over his face and stepped forwards, ignoring everyone’s gazes. “Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered. No time like the present, right? Better to get it over and done with instead of watching everything and everyone around him crumble to pieces.  
  
Would he even have anything left after this?  
  
Ardyn smirked. “What, no date? No candlelit dinner? No _romance_?”  
  
Noctis glared at him. “As if we have the time.”  
  
“Noct,” Gladio said, and when he turned, his shield was beginning to look disturbingly _angry_. “Do _not_ do this.”  
  
Ignis seemed far too worried, which was the most alarming thing really, since Ignis was always the most composed out of any of them. “Surely we can negotiate another price,” he said, eyes on Ardyn the whole time, his tone a little more desperate now. “Or if _this_ must indeed be the way, then perhaps someone else can take his place.”  
  
Noctis was about to protest against that, because _no fucking way_ , but Ardyn spoke before he could even make a sound. “I’m afraid my tastes are a little particular,” he said. His hand came up then, fingers cupping Noctis’s chin and tilting his head up a little. “And how could anyone say no to this face?”  
  
Gladio snarled and launched forwards, but Ignis was in front of him immediately, hands shoving him back. “Don’t!” he snapped. “Don’t be so reckless.”  
  
Ardyn raised an eyebrow. “My, my, quite the guard dog you have there, Your Majesty.” He looked over at Prompto then, the only one remaining so quiet and still. He was biting down on his knuckles, eyes scrunched up in pain. “Do you have anything to add to this conversation, or can we finally move things along?”  
  
Prompto pulled his hand out of his mouth and stared.  
  
“No?” Ardyn smiled at him. “Excellent. Come along, then, Your Majesty. Let us find somewhere a little more private.” He spared a final glance at the others. “And please refrain from trying anything foolish while you wait here, otherwise you will not like the consequences.”  
  
Noctis lowered his head and made to follow, but he froze at the sounds of his friends shuffling behind him and Prompto’s weak, choked voice as he said, “Noct.” A hand grabbed onto his wrist, pulling on him a little, and Noctis looked back at them, looked at his friend, reluctantly meeting his eyes. Prompto was shaking his head, his hand trembling a little where he was holding onto his arm. “Please, don’t do this.”  
  
But he had to. There really was no other way. Maybe they could have found another way to escape, _before_ they had come aboard this airship. But they were here now, they were already in the air, and if he didn’t go along with Ardyn’s wishes, then there was every chance that he would open the hatch and kick his friends out mid-flight. Maybe he would even take them back to Niflheim, and _then_ how screwed would they be? The current heir to the Lucian throne would make a very valuable captive, after all, but he couldn’t guarantee that his friends would survive alongside him.  
  
_Safe passage_. And only for the small price of his body, his dignity and the respect of his friends.  
  
Kind of worth it, in the grand scheme of things.  
  
“Stay here, all of you,” Noctis said to them, giving Prompto’s hand a gentle squeeze. He tried to give him a reassuring look, a small smile. “Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise.”  
  
Then he let go and turned, following Ardyn through the doorway and letting it close behind them, shutting his friends away.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
There was an actual cabin on board. It wasn’t much, large enough for a bed and a small adjoining bathroom, and it seemed uncomfortably small as they stepped inside together, as Ardyn stood close and shucked off his coat, let it fall to the floor with a heavy thump. “Have you ever been with a man before?” he asked, and his voice was quieter now, almost soothing, even if he did have that annoying smirk on his lips.  
  
Noctis shook his head.  
  
Ardyn raised a hand to his cheek, stroked his fingers along his skin, and Noctis fought back the shudders at the feeling, tried to ignore the goosebumps that crawled along his arms and under his clothes. Ardyn either didn’t notice his hesitance or he didn’t care, because he stepped closer, into his personal space, into his _breathing_ space, their lips only a short distance away.  
  
Noctis forced himself to look up. The lighting in the cabin was poor, but he could still see the man smiling down at him, his fingers moving along his skin until the tips were barely even touching his jaw. “Have you ever been with _anyone_ before?” Ardyn murmured, and his eyes were hooded.  
  
Noctis opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out.  
  
It must have shown on his face anyway. Ardyn’s smile widened a little, something strange flashing in his eyes as he stepped back. There was something _hungry_ in that gaze, almost possessive. “Oh my,” he said, very softly, his voice hushed in the small space of the cabin. “Then this is a very special occurrence indeed.”  
  
“Shut up,” Noctis said, but his voice was weak, barely there, and it was hard to speak past the lump stuck in his throat and it was hard to hear his own voice past the sound of his heartbeat throbbing in his ears.  
  
Ardyn tilted his head, pulling his gloves off with meticulously slow movements, and it grated on his nerves, made his nausea grow, made him shiver despite the fact that he was sweating, and he wanted nothing more than to turn and run out of the room, back to the safety his friends would offer him.  
  
But he couldn’t hide behind them. They needed this passage, his friends’ safety was the very reason he was doing this in the first place, and it was his _duty_ to protect his friends.  
  
He was their king now, and so he had to protect them.  
  
“Now, Noctis,” Ardyn said as he tossed his gloves aside. “Don’t make this awkward for the both of us. While I could quite enjoy the idea of simply _taking_ you, I’d much rather have your participation in all of this. Please. Undress yourself.”  
  
Noctis swallowed past the lump in his throat, his mouth dry at the idea of Ardyn simply shoving him down and having his way, _forcing_ him. It reminded him of the rather aggressive behaviour from last night when he had kissed him. Would it hurt that way? Would Ardyn be rough with him? Would he _punish_ him for not ‘participating’? Would it go a lot easier if he just went along with it, if he acted like he wanted this?  
  
He took his glove off first, let it drop to the floor. It barely even made a noise, nothing more than a tiny little thump, but even _that_ had Noctis flinching. He forced himself to breathe deeply and to look up, burying down his shudders when he met Ardyn’s hungry gaze.  
  
He didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t know _anything_ about seduction. He was too awkward, too inexperienced, too shy. So he had no idea how stupid he might have looked as he stepped closer to the chancellor, as he tried to keep his face unreadable and lifted his hands to strip himself of his jacket. He let it slide down his arms and it hit the floor, and it must have worked in some capacity because Ardyn’s eyes were hooded again, his lips were parted and he certainly didn’t have that self-satisfied smile on his face anymore.  
  
Ardyn helped him undress the rest of the way, as if he could no longer keep his hands to himself. It was all so very _intimate_ , whether the chancellor intended for it to be or not, and Noctis’s breath seemed too loud in the small space as their fingers and foreheads brushed while they removed his boots and pulled his t-shirt over his head. Then they slipped their fingers beneath his waistband, working together to slide his pants and boxer briefs down his legs, and Noctis _had_ to turn his head away then, pursing his lips, shuddering despite his best efforts.  
  
Gods, but he really, really didn’t want to do this. This wasn’t how he had wanted it to be. True, he had never been one for that stupid notion that his first time had to be ‘special’, but he certainly hadn’t wanted it to be anything like _this_ , with his friends’ lives on the line, with a man he held no attraction for, with fingers trailing along his bare skin and making his stomach flip unpleasantly.  
  
“Oh, but you are a wonder,” Ardyn murmured. His hand was under Noctis’s chin again, tilting it up, and then his mouth was on his.  
  
Noctis couldn’t help the small noise that escaped him then and he forced himself to return the kiss, to open his mouth under Ardyn’s, let the man’s tongue do as it wanted. He ignored the shivers running down his spine, he ignored how everything inside him was screaming to run away, and, instead, he stepped closer, fisting his hands into Ardyn’s clothes as he threw himself full force into this deep abyss.  
  
He didn’t know what he was doing. He had kissed one, maybe two other people before, back in high school, but not for long enough to know what he was doing now. Maybe he should be _grateful_ to Ardyn, for giving him this learning experience.  
  
_Yeah, sure_. Noctis shivered with disgust.  
  
Ardyn chuckled against his mouth and broke away, pressing their foreheads together. “Forgive me for rushing things along, but we are on a bit of a schedule, I suppose. We might as well get started.”  
  
Noctis watched as the man made himself comfortable on the bed. “Aren’t you gonna get undressed?” he murmured.  
  
“Why, does it make you uncomfortable?” Ardyn smiled back. “We haven’t the time for that, I’m afraid. Come here.”  
  
Noctis swallowed and let himself be dragged onto Ardyn’s lap. It felt weird, it felt _so weird_ to be completely naked in front of him like this. He felt too skinny and bony, scrawny, not at all anything _good_ to look at, and yet Ardyn’s eyes and hands were roving over him anyway, as if he was something to be worshipped. It was weird, how _disgusting_ that made him feel.  
  
“So tense,” Ardyn murmured. He gripped Noctis by the hips, then ran his hands up along his sides, his ribs. He pressed a kiss to the side of his throat, murmuring, “Sexual acts are good for relaxation, you know.”  
  
Noctis fought back a wince and shrugged, keeping his head turned away. “Yeah, well…”  
  
“And you’ve _never_ been with anyone? I find that rather hard to believe, with a face like yours.” Ardyn chuckled suddenly. “Not even with one of your boys back there?”  
  
His _boys_. Something about that made him shiver, and Noctis glared down at the man. “No,” he said, keeping his voice flat, cold.  
  
But Ardyn seemed only amused, raising an eyebrow. “No? Not even with that guard dog of yours? Why, with the way he looks at you, with the way they _all_ look at you, I’m sure they wouldn’t refuse a quick tumble in the sheets every now and—”  
  
Noctis felt something within him snap. “ _Fuck_ you, how fucking _dare_ you—” He lunged forwards, going to hit him, to push him, to do _anything_ , but Ardyn had a tight hold of his wrists instantly, flipping them around with surprising strength and speed, and Noctis’s breath was knocked out of him as he landed on his back, hands pinned above his head, Ardyn looming over him.  
  
“Hit a nerve, did I?” Ardyn smirked.  
  
Noctis glared up at him, although he kept his hands limp above him on the pillows despite that they were starting to ache in Ardyn’s grasp. He could almost feel his bones creaking and grinding together under the pressure. “Thought you wanted to get this show on the road,” he bit out. “Like you said, we’re on a schedule. Haven’t got a lot of time to mess around.”  
  
“On the contrary, Your Majesty,” Ardyn murmured, finally letting go of his wrists. “We could have all the time in the world, if I decided so.”  
  
Kind of a weird thing to say, especially since it was so contradicting to what he had said earlier. Noctis frowned, not sure how to answer, but then his words were lost to him anyway as he felt those lips trailing down his body, kissing and licking and biting, and his breathing became sporadic, his muscles jumping and twitching as he fought to keep himself in place.  
  
Another weird thing, to have someone else’s hand on his dick instead of his own. Ardyn watched him eagerly, _amusedly_ , coming close to mouth at his throat as his hand worked him over, and Noctis squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head to hide his face away, his cheeks burning and his eyes watering with the sheer _humiliation_ of it all. Because, _gods damn it_ , it felt _good_ , warmth was running through his body and pooling in his stomach, his body giving into it, subconsciously trembling with it.  
  
Ardyn was chuckling at him, his head still buried in Noctis’s throat, and he had no choice but to tilt his head back to make room, flinching as the older man nipped at his skin. “You _are_ indeed a wonder, Your Majesty,” Ardyn murmured. “You play the maiden act so well. So very demure. It’s quite intoxicating, I must say.”  
  
“Please,” Noctis gasped, and he hated himself the moment the word left his lips. _Please shut up, please let me go, please get this over with. Please, please, please_ _—_  
  
“Kiss me, then,” Ardyn said. He leaned above Noctis, towering over him, brushing his fingers over one of the hands still limp on the pillows. His other hand continued to work Noctis over, a little faster now, and Noctis couldn’t help the small noise that came out of him as he arched, as he pressed his body into the one above his, Ardyn’s clothes surprisingly soft against his skin. “Touch me,” Ardyn said. “Act like you mean it, instead of lying back as if I am taking you against your will.”  
  
_But you are_ , Noctis wanted to say, wanted to _scream_ , but he said nothing. He grabbed at Ardyn instead, moved his hands to clutch onto his shirt and pull his mouth down to his, ignoring the screaming in his head and the way his eyes still burned.  
  
Time seemed to run rather strangely within this room. It could have been minutes, it could have been _hours_ since he left his friends behind. And so he didn’t know how long it was until he was gasping into Ardyn’s shoulder as the man moved inside of him, gripping his hips so tightly there were bound to be bruises left behind. Noctis squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his wrist to muffle the noises that were coming out of him. His wrist was wet and he could taste copper on his tongue, but it didn’t matter, _it didn’t matter_.  
  
He wished it hurt, he wished he was screaming with pain, he could _handle_ pain, he knew how to deal with that, he had a _lifetime_ of knowledge on how to deal with that. But, no, instead he had warmth spreading through his body and building up inside of him, he had these broken little cries ripping out of him against his will, muffled into the flesh of his wrist, and it was _exactly_ what Ardyn wanted, he could see it in his eyes, in his cruel smile.  
  
“How beautiful you are like this,” Ardyn said, and it was amazing how _normal_ he sounded, how he wasn’t gasping or strained when Noctis felt like he could hardly breathe. Ardyn leaned over him again, pulling at Noctis’s face to make him look up at him, thumbing his bottom lip. “I wonder, how many times have those _friends_ of yours thought of having you like this?”  
  
Noctis scrunched up his face and tried to look away. “They don’t,” he gasped. “They don’t think of me that way.”  
  
“I think you’re wrong. How could anyone look at you and _not_ think of throwing you down on the closest bed and having their way with you?” Ardyn’s chuckle was dark as he leaned closer to murmur into his ear. “The way you look at everyone. The way you dangle yourself in front of them all like a prize. It would be rather insulting if it weren’t for your beautiful face.”  
  
“I don’t do that,” Noctis choked out.  
  
“You do, I saw you, I saw the way you treated those boys of yours. It’s no wonder they look at you the way they do, if you act that way in front of them. Tempting them so much.” Ardyn brushed their lips together, barely even a touch at all. “Why do you think I felt the need to have you in the first place? I simply couldn’t resist your charms.”  
  
Lies. It _had_ to be, merely Ardyn trying to get under his skin. He had _never_ acted that way in front of anyone, especially not his friends, and they had never thought of him in that way. He was sure of it.  
  
Ardyn was chuckling again, face buried in Noctis’s throat, and Noctis could only gasp into his shoulder, clutching at his clothes, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how everything seemed so distant, so far away.  
  
“Tell me you like this,” Ardyn murmured. His hand crawled into his hair and yanked his head back, exposing the column of his throat, teeth nipping at his skin as his movements sped up.  
  
Noctis squeezed his eyes shut. “I like it,” he gasped out. He hated how it wasn’t exactly a lie. His body certainly seemed to like it, it reacted to Ardyn’s touch even though he didn’t want it to, like he wasn’t in control of himself, like his body was a completely separate entity from him. It made him feel weird, made him feel disconnected from his own skin. He could see his own hands and arms in front of him, but it _wasn’t_ him, this _couldn’t_ be him.  
  
_He_ would never enjoy this.  
  
“Tell me how good it is for you.”  
  
“It’s good—” Noctis’s voice failed him then, choked him, clawing at the inside of his throat, and he dreaded the idea that he might actually start sobbing. “It’s _good_ , it feels good. Please, _please_ _—_ ”  
  
“Please what, Your Majesty?”  
  
_Please stop it, please don’t make me say it, please let this be over, please stop making me feel this way, please someone help me, please_ _—_  
  
The hand tightened in his hair and Noctis gasped, “ _Please_.”  
  
Ardyn’s teeth suddenly sank into his throat and, at the same time, Noctis slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his cry as his body suddenly clenched and shook, his release spilling between them, and Ardyn groaned into his neck, hands gripping onto his hips tightly, pulling his body close to him, holding him there.  
  
Ardyn lay still on top of him, his face buried in Noctis’s throat, actually breathing a little faster now. Noctis held himself completely still, not sure what to do, not sure if any movement might trigger some other demand or remark. His own heart was hammering in his chest, and, now that the warmth and that moment of pleasure was dying down, a cold feeling was beginning to settle in his gut, and his face was burning again, his eyes threatening to overflow.  
  
Ardyn let out a chuckle, almost to himself, and he was suddenly pulling away, heedless of Noctis’s wince. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and reappeared with a towel, tossing it onto the bed beside Noctis.  
  
“You are _everything_ I could have hoped for,” Ardyn smiled down at him, his gaze almost _affectionate_ , and it made him nauseous. “A body made for my own. You truly _were_ made for me.”  
  
Noctis kept his jaw shut, eyes down, suddenly unsure of himself, not knowing what to do, what to say, how to act. He was still naked and _dirty_ and he itched to grab at the towel to start scrubbing at himself, but he didn’t dare in case it would make Ardyn laugh at him. He didn’t think he could take that right now.  
  
“We’ve spent long enough in here, I think,” Ardyn said. “Do hurry with getting cleaned up. I’ll make sure we’re landing soon.”  
  
And, with that, Ardyn was leaving the room, pulling his coat and gloves on along the way, leaving Noctis there on his own, naked and _used_.  
  
Noctis covered his mouth with his hand, ignoring how much he was _shaking_ , reaching for the towel with his free hand to drag it over himself, and all he could think about was the mess between his legs. There had been—Ardyn had had to use—gods, it was so _embarrassing_ , there had been _lube_ , because they had just—  
  
And his own mess, fucking _gods_ _—_ Ardyn had _actually_ made him come, he had the evidence over his skin, and _that_ was the worst part, the fact that he had _enjoyed_ it, he had let his body give into it like a fucking needy _whore_ _—_  
  
Noctis scrubbed at his skin until it was beginning to turn pink, then he threw the towel across the room, covering his face with his hands instead, feeling more humiliated than anything else.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
It had been nearly an hour, maybe even more so, since Noctis had walked off with the chancellor, and Ignis was feeling more anxious with every second that passed. Gladio’s pacing was doing nothing to ease his worries, nor was Prompto’s nervous rocking where he was sat against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. Where Prompto was a bundle of anxiety and fear, Gladio was like a caged animal, angry and tense and waiting to pounce. Ignis was ready to step in at any moment should Gladio choose to do something drastic to find their wayward king. He had already tried opening the door Noctis and Ardyn had gone through, but it appeared to be locked.  
  
Ignis guessed that the only reason he hadn’t tried to _break_ the door down was because of the so called consequences Ardyn had threatened them with.  
  
And good _gods_ , the thought of what Noctis was doing, what he was doing for _them_ , for _their_ safety—he felt sick at the idea, although more out of worry for Noctis than anything else. Would the chancellor be—would he be _gentle_ with him or would he be rough? Would he show Noctis some care? Would he be decent? Would he—would he—would he—  
  
Ignis squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
He should have stopped it. He should have stopped Noctis from leaving, should have stopped Ardyn from asking, should have stopped them all from getting on this damned airship. He had been the one to speak for the idea, hadn’t he? He had been the one to tell them to clamber on board, because surely _anything_ had been better than dying down there in the crater.  
  
This wasn’t better, this was _far_ from better, and he had all but thrown Noctis to the chancellor, he had practically dangled their king in front of him and hadn’t _fought_ enough for him when he should have.  
  
And Ignis didn’t care _what_ Ardyn claimed, there was no chance in hell the two of them had had some tryst the night before. Ignis could recall how uncomfortable his friend had been, how he had wanted to stay _away_ from Ardyn, how he'd had a bad feeling, as if he could sense something wrong with the stranger. That hadn’t been about desire, it had been about anxiety, maybe even fear.  
  
Noctis had _known_ something was wrong, and yet Ignis had dismissed it.  
  
_Gods_ , what had he _done_? He should have fought harder for his king, for his _friend_.  
  
The airship was still moving, which also left him feeling rather nervous. For all they knew, Ardyn might have tricked them, might have fooled Noctis into paying this so called _price_ , and he might be taking them to Niflheim after all. It wouldn’t be surprising, since he had deceived them before.  
  
But then the airship was shifting a little, and Ignis could only guess, by the motion of it, that they were lowering down to the ground, which must have meant—  
  
Heavy footsteps on the other side of the door had them all tense and on alert, stopped Gladio in his tracks, made Prompto scramble to rise to his feet. They watched as the door opened and Ardyn stepped through. He smiled at them and tipped his head as the doors behind them opened and the ramp began to descend. “Well then,” he said, and there was something satisfied about his look and his tone. “This is where we go our separate ways.”  
  
Prompto was biting his lip and shifting on his feet. “Where—where’s Noct?”  
  
“Getting dressed, I imagine,” Ardyn replied, eyebrows raised, and it could have almost sounded so innocent in the way that he said it, except that it _wasn’t_ , and the look in his eyes was clearly an amused challenge of sorts.  
  
Gladio muttered something and looked away, jaw clenched.  
  
“Come on, then,” Ardyn said, and he waved his hands, as if shooing them. “Away with you! Off you go, safe travels, and all that.”  
  
“Not without His Majesty,” Ignis glared at him.  
  
Ardyn rolled his eyes, actually _rolled his eyes_ , and Ignis fought back the urge to hit him for such childish behaviour, would have happily done so if it wasn’t for the fact that it could probably land him in a world full of trouble. It could even undo Noctis’s bargain.  
  
He was tempted to say something, to snap at the other man, but more footsteps echoing down the airship had him freezing, turning to look as Noctis approached.  
  
Ignis almost winced at the sight of him. It wasn’t that he looked hurt, but it was painfully obvious just what had been going on behind closed doors. Noctis’s face was blank, his eyes unreadable, every thought and feeling locked away from the outside world. His outward appearance, however, spoke volumes. His clothes were rumpled, clearly pulled on hastily, his hair was in slight disarray, and, briefly, Ignis thought he could see a suspicious looking mark on the base of his throat, at the junction where his shoulder met his neck. A bruise blossoming on his skin. It was mostly hidden by his jacket collar and the lighting, but the idea of it made Ignis freeze with rage.  
  
And that wasn’t even considering his pallor and the slightly awkward way he was walking.  
  
Ardyn caught his wrist as he passed him, holding him in place, and Ignis could see his friend’s entire body tense as the chancellor leaned down so his lips brushed his ear. “I have no doubts that we will meet again,” Ardyn said slowly, softly, almost _intimately_ , but it was just loud enough for Ignis to make out. “I look forward to it. You are a _wonder_ , after all.”  
  
Noctis’s face was blank as he jerked his arm out of the chancellor’s grip and continued marching towards the ramp, only briefly giving a look over his shoulder to call out, “Let’s go.”  
  
“Uh—” Prompto was pale, mouth hanging open, but then he quickly followed after him. “Right. Be right there!”  
  
Gladio didn’t look like he wanted to go. He looked like he wanted to lunge at Ardyn, he looked like he wanted to tear the other man apart. Ignis grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him along, had to use actual _force_ to get the shield’s feet to move. Gladio slapped his hands away with a scowl and made his way down the ramp, and Ignis followed him with a sigh.  
  
“Be seeing you!” Ardyn called down to them, rather cheerfully, and then the ramp was raising, sealing him away as the airship took off.  
  
Noctis was silent and still as he watched the airship grow more and more distant, and still he didn’t move even when they could no longer see it in the sky. Ignis glanced around them, taking in their surroundings, painfully aware of the awkward silence that had drifted over them. They were on an empty, long dirt road, and while it seemed they were, indeed, in the Duscae region, there wasn’t anything particularly telling of where they were exactly.  
  
Funny, with how long it seemed they had been flying for, he had half-expected them to end up somewhere far away. He wondered if they had simply been circling in a large area, to give Ardyn more time with Noctis.  
  
It was a sickening thought.  
  
“So, uh,” Prompto said suddenly. “What now? No car, out in the open, it’ll be dark soon. What do we do?”  
  
“I need to find out exactly where we are first,” Ignis answered, pulling his phone out. If he could pinpoint their location, then he could work out the best course of action they could take.  
  
“But what about the car?” Prompto said.  
  
“No doubt it’ll be back where we left it, and I imagine that’s quite a walk from where we are now. We’ll never reach it today,” Ignis glanced up at Noctis, who was still staring off at nothing, and then over at Gladio, who was keeping his eyes lowered and his jaw still clenched. “Our best course of action right now is to find somewhere safe and then call Cindy, see if she can tow the car for us.”  
  
Prompto nodded jerkily, his face remaining nervous instead of lighting up the way it usually did whenever Cindy was mentioned. “Right!” he said, then glanced at Noctis, almost anxiously. “Right. So, now…”  
  
“Right now we have to find somewhere safe for the night,” Ignis said, perhaps a little more forcefully than he should have, but Prompto’s sudden chattering in contrast with Noctis’s continued silence had him on edge. He just couldn’t tell if it was a good sign or not. Was he simply unaffected by what had just transpired, was he unworried by any of it? Or was this him shutting down on them, was he beginning to lock himself away like he tended to do with more personal matters? “I just have to find where we _are_ first—”  
  
“There’s a haven over there,” Noctis said suddenly, looking off into the distance, to their left. Indeed, past the trees and rocks, there was the faint smoke signal of a haven. “Let’s go there. We can work the rest out later.”  
  
Prompto was biting his lip again, shifting a little on his feet, and he glanced between Noctis and Ignis. “Uh, sure, okay. Sounds good to me.”  
  
“Well, it’s certainly better than standing in the middle of the road,” Ignis agreed. No one pointed out how they were in the middle of _nowhere_ , with no signs of any cars around to knock them down or cause them trouble. He looked up at Gladio, who was silently staring off into the distance, his face shuttered. “Any objections?”  
  
The shield made a grunting noise, which sounded like a refusal, but he didn’t look at anyone.  
  
Noctis wasn’t looking at any of them, either. “Okay then,” he said quietly, and he began to lead the way towards the haven.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
  
Noctis tried to keep his distance from them. He walked off ahead and to the side of their group, hyper aware of their voices talking quietly. Well, just Prompto and Ignis really, Gladio was yet to say anything, and Noctis wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  
  
He swallowed and tried to block everything out, tried to make his mind blank, but nothing seemed to work. He felt too weird in his own body, as if his skin was stretched too thin, or as if he had the _wrong_ body, he had been placed inside of someone else and left to get used to these new limbs, the way they worked, the way they felt.  
  
Now that they were off the airship, now that they were out here in the fresh air with the dirt and the grass beneath their boots, it all seemed like a dream. As if that room he and Ardyn had been in had never even existed, as if he had simply imagined it all.  
  
And yet he still felt like he was going to end up screaming any minute now. He could feel it beneath his clothes, he memory of those hands on him, not even an hour ago, forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do, making him _like_ it—  
  
Was it force if he ended up enjoying it?  
  
Noctis fought back every urge to run his hands over his face and through his hair. He _hadn’t_ enjoyed it, he hadn’t wanted _any_ of it. But then how else could he explain how his body had reacted? He had gotten _hard_ and he had—  
  
Gods. Fucking _gods_ , what had he done? He had just _allowed_ himself to be used, hadn’t even tried to bargain with anything else, he had practically jumped right into bed with Ardyn. What did that make him? What did his friends think of him? Did they really believe Ardyn’s lies, that he had _wanted_ that, that they’d done it before? Was that why Gladio was so silent, was he angry with him? Would he be even angrier if he found out just how much Noctis’s body apparently enjoyed the way he had been used?  
  
And was Ardyn right? Did he ‘ _dangle_ ’ himself in front of others, had he acted in such a way that he had brought it all upon himself, tempted Ardyn far too much? Was that why his body had responded in the way that it had, why he hadn’t felt the need to put up much of a fight? Because there was something lurking beneath his skin, some disgusting _thing_ that was just _waiting_ for him to be treated in such a way?  
  
The world was growing too distant. He could see it in front of him, could hear it around him, but it was as if it was coming in through a filter, fuzzy and disconnected, he didn’t feel _connected_ to it. Like trying to participate in a movie or a game, the people and the places were there, but Noctis couldn’t touch them, they couldn’t really see him. He couldn’t interact with them or _be_ there, he wasn’t _there_ , where was he, where _was_ he, the world existed but he didn’t, he didn’t _exist_ , he didn’t—  
  
His breathing was coming a little too heavy, loud in his ears, and there were only moments before the others would notice, and if they noticed that he was like _this_ then— then what? What would they say? What would they do? Would they comfort him, help him feel calm again, help bring him back from wherever he had gone? Or would they tell him to stop, tell him to suck it up, he had no right to be acting this way? He had gotten himself into that situation after all, he had brought it all upon himself.  
  
It wasn’t as if it was anything to start having a meltdown over. It was just— _sex_ , it was just sex, right?  
  
But even that thought, that simple little word, made him wince and flinch.  
  
Noctis kept his ungloved hand clenched into a fist, digging his nails into his palm until it _hurt_ , until he was sure the skin was nearly broken. He just wanted to feel _something_ , some form of sensation, even if it was pain, because maybe then he would feel real.  
  
It seemed to work, somewhat. The feeling didn’t _quite_ go away, but at least his breathing was steadier now, at least he could go on with pretending that he was okay.  
  
A hand touched his shoulder suddenly, and Noctis flinched before he could stop himself, a brief and panicked _no, no, no please don’t_ chanting through his head. But it was only Ignis, watching him with a look of concern. “Apologies if I startled you,” he murmured. “I wondered if we could have a moment.”  
  
Noctis swallowed and glanced down at the hand still on his shoulder. His friend’s touch was hesitant and gentle, unsure, but it didn’t feel _horrible_ , just sort of weird, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to escape the touch or cling to it. _At least you_ can _feel him. That means he’s here and you’re here. If he can touch you, then you’re here, you’re real_.  
  
If Ignis could look at him and speak to him, then that meant he was real. But at the same time, his gaze felt too heavy, made Noctis feel open and exposed. Like Ignis could see every thought and secret and memory being locked inside.  
  
“Noct?” Ignis’s hand squeezed his shoulder before he let go, and he was frowning, eyes worried.  
  
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Noctis blinked. He glanced over at Gladio and Prompto. They were trying not to look at him, it seemed. Whether it was because they were trying not to intrude, or because they simply _couldn’t_ look at him - out of disgust, out of anger, out of shame - he couldn’t really tell, but it left him with a cold feeling.  
  
Ignis kept his voice low as he spoke, so the others wouldn’t hear. “I’m sorry for this, but I have to ask,” he said, and he looked _very_ unsure of himself now, which was the weirdest thing to see. Ignis was always so confident. “And I need you to be honest with me. Are you all right?”  
  
That...wasn’t what he had expected. “What?” Noctis frowned.  
  
“Are you all right?” Ignis repeated. “Do you need anything?”  
  
“Anything?”  
  
Ignis hesitated, and that certainly didn’t do anything to ease Noctis’s feelings. “To help if you are in any pain or discomfort,” he said. “I could get you a potion if you need, or I have some painkillers on hand if you’d prefer that option instead.”  
  
Noctis flinched at that, suddenly reminded of last night and the way Ardyn had been so _rough_ , so insisting. Gods, had that _just_ been last night? It seemed like forever ago now. Even Titan and his screaming, while only a few hours ago at the most, seemed like it had happened years ago.  
  
“No,” he said, and his voice was quiet to his own ears, a little rough. “That’s not necessary.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Ignis’s gaze flicked downwards, towards his neck, and Noctis shifted uncomfortably, pulling at his jacket collar, all too aware of how tender the skin in that area was. There was probably a _mark_ now, _fuck_. “Did he—” Ignis paused, swallowed visibly. “Did he use—was he _practical_? Did he—”  
  
Practical? Noctis could only stare, almost amazed that Ignis, fucking _Ignis_ , was struggling for words for what seemed to be the first time in maybe his entire life, and it would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact that _nothing_ about this day had been funny, and especially not when he realized what Ignis was trying to ask.  
  
Noctis clenched his jaw, his face uncomfortably hot. Shit, this was _not_ a conversation he had ever wanted to have with Ignis. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He wanted to laugh, or shout, maybe even scream, but he couldn’t do anything, he had to keep his mask up, he had to act like he was _okay_ with what he had done. He had _wanted_ it after all, wasn’t that what Ardyn had claimed?  
  
“We used lube and condoms, if that’s what you’re asking,” he managed to get out, and he was almost proud of how indifferent he sounded, almost annoyed, except for how fucking _humiliated_ he felt all over again.  
  
At least he sounded stronger than how he felt.  
  
“And I’m _fine_ ,” he added for good measure. Then he sped up, walking further ahead of them, putting some distance between Ignis and himself in the hopes that his friend wouldn’t be able to see how his hands were shaking, or how his mask was starting to crack a little at the mere _memory_ of lips and fingers and another warm body against his.  
  
He had to be okay. He had made his decision, and now he had to live with it.  
  
No matter how disgusting it made him feel.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Noctis was glad Ignis had allowed him to store almost all of their things inside the armoury, instead of storing them all away in the Regalia like any other ordinary person, otherwise they would have been camping out on the rocks tonight.  
  
The others were attempting to make small talk as they worked together to set up camp, but Noctis didn’t really feel like joining in. His jaw didn’t feel like it would work properly if he wanted it to. He felt slow, that weird disconnected feeling sticking with him, making his head feel fuzzy, like he was made completely of static and white noise instead of flesh and blood.  
  
At least he was coming off as somewhat normal to the others. Or he could only guess that he was, because they were only glancing at him occasionally now, instead of the way they had been watching him earlier, like he was a bomb on the verge of exploding. He was glad he was fooling them, he was glad he was playing this act well, because he still felt a little freaked out and crazy about his own body, at the way it seemed as if he was moving through a dream. He could see his hands and arms moving in front of him, but he couldn’t really feel it, like his own body was now beyond his control.  
  
And he didn’t know _how_ he could explain that to them without sounding crazy. Was he crazy? Had something inside of him snapped back on that airship, and now he was left going insane?  
  
Noctis chose not to think about it too much, because that would just be opening the door for that panic to set in again, the one that had nearly stolen his breath away earlier. He didn’t think he could put a stop to another bout of that.  
  
Somehow, while Ignis was preparing dinner, Prompto managed to wrangle them all into a game of King’s Knight. Noctis wasn’t sure how it happened or maybe he just couldn’t remember, but it felt like a pitiful attempt at normality, and he wasn’t sure what to think of that.  
  
All he could think about was everything that had happened, everything that he didn’t _want_ to think about. It all came to him in brief flashes, unbidden, unrelenting no matter how much he tried to focus on the game before him. He fumbled with the menus and the controls, unable to read the words properly, like it was written in a completely different language.  
  
And all the while he had Ardyn’s voice in his head. Ardyn’s hands on him, massaging him, touching him, pressing him against the car, pressing him into the bed, stroking down his back while they were in public. Ardyn’s hands, Ardyn’s lips, Ardyn’s body.  
  
He couldn’t complain. He had no right to complain. He had brought it all upon himself.  
  
Noctis let out a breath, frustrated and angry and upset all at once, and he quit King’s Knight after what seemed to be the hundredth time that he clicked into the wrong menu, still unable to process the words properly. The others looked at him as he stood up, but he kept his eyes averted. “Sorry Iggy, think I’ll skip dinner,” he muttered.  
  
“Are you all right?” Ignis asked immediately.  
  
“Yeah, just tired, been a long day,” Noctis nodded. “I’m gonna sleep.”  
  
He turned and rushed into the tent before anyone could say anything, practically collapsing down onto the mat, curling in on himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach and pretending he couldn’t make out the quiet murmurs coming from the campfire. He didn’t want to hear their false concerns or their angry comments about what he’d done. If he could just pretend, just for now, that they didn’t hate him, that they weren’t disgusted with him, that they didn’t wish they could ditch him, leave him behind.  
  
Because they _must_ have felt that way, because how could they even begin to feel anything else when it was all he could feel?  
  
He just wanted to pretend that they still cared, because, at least then, it made things a little less lonely.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
And the worst thing—  
  
The absolute _worst_ thing was that, if he had to, he would do it all over again.  
  
He would gladly give his body up if it meant that he could keep his friends safe from harm.  
  
And how fucking disgusting was that?  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Ignis struggled to sleep that night, although he imagined it was hard for _any_ of them to get some rest after the day’s events. What little sleep he _could_ manage was brief, fitful, as if he had consumed gallons of caffeinated drinks right before laying down for the night.  
  
He jerked awake yet again, after barely an hour of sleep, and he frowned, unsure if something had woken him up or if it was his body still rebelling against his wishes. Prompto was beside him and, mercifully, quiet and still, most likely asleep. Gladio, however, by the sounds of it, was still awake.  
  
Noctis was asleep, but he was restless, gasping a little, making small noises. It made something in Ignis’s chest clench, and he wondered if it would do any good to wake him up, to pull him from his nightmare, or if he would settle down soon enough. Would Noctis appreciate it? He seemed to have been trying to put some space between himself and the rest of them, so would he prefer if Ignis woke him from his nightmares or if he let him deal with it himself?  
  
He didn’t need to mull it over very much, as Noctis was soon jerking awake with a choked and muffled noise, his breathing unsteady and a little loud in the stillness of the tent. Then he was moving, getting to his hands and knees, and Ignis watched as he unzipped the tent and climbed out.  
  
A quick glance at his phone showed that it was a little after one-thirty, still dark outside, the campfire crackling away. Ignis swallowed, unsure what to do. He should leave Noctis, give him his privacy, let him catch his breath back and clear his head after a nightmare.  
  
But what if that didn’t work? What if he needed someone to talk to, or to simply be with? What if he was still unsettled?  
  
He couldn’t leave him. Every fibre in his being screamed for him to get up and go after Noctis, and so he did. He glanced back quickly on his way out. Prompto’s eyes were open, hooded and slightly unfocused, as if he had just woken up, and Gladio was staring up at the tent’s ceiling, his face unreadable.  
  
Ignis stepped out of the tent as quietly as he could. Noctis was sat by the campfire, in one of the chairs, running his hands over his face. Ignis took a deep, steadying breath and stepped forwards, sitting down in the chair beside him. “Everything all right?” he murmured.  
  
Noctis was watching him out of the corners of his eyes, leaning forwards now, elbows resting on his knees. He looked _beyond_ tired, even in the light of the fire, but he was nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
“A nightmare?”  
  
Noctis paused, eyes flickering back to the fire. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Not like that’s any different from normal, though, so whatever. It’s fine.”  
  
It wasn’t fine. True, Noctis had always been prone to nightmares - he’d had a lot of bad experiences to have nightmares of - but just because they were a usual occurrence would never mean that it was perfectly _fine_ , that it was just something meaningless and could be brushed aside.  
  
He could remember when they were younger, only children. If he’d had a particularly bad nightmare, then Noctis would have seeked him out, would have crept into his bedroom at night in search of comfort. Sometimes he might have even told Ignis what his dream was about, or what was bothering him. Sometimes they had stayed up for hours after his nightmare so that he could reassure the boy, let him know that everything was going to be fine, that he was safe.  
  
He wished it was like that now. He wished Noctis didn’t feel the need to pull away, there was _no need_ to pull away.  
  
Ignis cleared his throat as quietly as he could. “If you’d like to talk about it, I—”  
  
“I don’t,” Noctis cut him off. He glanced back at him, looking a little guilty, and shrugged. “I just...there’s nothing to talk about.”  
  
“We both know that’s not true,” Ignis said quietly. “But, just so you know, the offer is always there if you ever feel the need to talk.”  
  
Noctis bit his lip, staring into the fire, but Ignis couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Was he tense, uncomfortable with the conversation? Was he tempted to confide in him? Ignis simply couldn’t tell, and it was frustrating.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Noctis said eventually, quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He reached a hand up to run over his eyes again, as if he was tired, as if he was trying to hide, but a flash of colour had Ignis frowning and it was all he could suddenly focus on.  
  
It was a little hard to tell in the firelight, but it looked like there were bruises on his wrist. Ignis shot him a sharp look and moved closer, let his chair scrape noisily along the stone until he could take Noctis’s hand gently in both of his own, bringing it closer to him, brushing his thumbs over the marks.  
  
They must have been fresh, they must have developed sometime over the course of the evening and night, because he certainly hadn’t had them this morning and he would have noticed them earlier, seeing as how they seemed to be such a livid colour, darker in some places. The shape of them had Ignis’s heart thudding faster in his chest.  
  
They were _finger_ marks.  
  
He quickly grabbed Noctis’s other hand, pulling his glove off, wincing with an apology as Noctis hissed a little, and, sure enough, there were matching bruises on his other wrist. The implications of it were nauseating. Noctis had been _restrained_ at some point, and rather forcefully if there were such dark bruises forming. And if he had been restrained, then did that mean there had been a struggle? Had Noctis been trying to escape?  
  
“Noct,” Ignis breathed.  
  
Noctis was staring at him with a look that Ignis couldn’t quite decipher, but something that had the hairs on the back of his neck rising. “I’m fine,” he said, but his voice was weak and unsure, and he swallowed visibly. “It’s nothing, really.”  
  
It wasn’t _nothing_ and it wasn’t _fine_. There was something else, too, another mark, as Ignis turned Noctis’s left wrist. A bite mark, hard enough to have broken the skin and drawn blood. Ignis stared at it, trying to keep his breathing under control, fighting for a neutral expression as he thumbed the area around the tender skin.  
  
He swallowed. “Did he—”  
  
“No,” Noctis cut him off, still in that quiet, weak voice. “I, uh...I did that.”  
  
Ignis looked up then, met his eyes, alarmed by the way his friend’s voice shook. “You bit yourself?”  
  
Noctis was averting his eyes now and nodding his head jerkily. “Uh-huh.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Um—I just, uh—” he tugged at his wrists, managed to pull them out of Ignis’s grasp, and covered the bite mark with one hand. “I just did, okay? I’m fine. It’s—it’s all fine.” He pulled a funny face then, something reminiscent of a smile, as if he was trying to act casual. “I like it rough, you know?”  
  
Ignis could only stare at him, heart thudding in his chest. Was Noctis trying to imply that he had _wanted_ what had happened? That he was happy with what Ardyn had done? That this, the bruises, _everything_ , it had been a consensual thing?  
  
It might have been more believable if Noctis hadn’t been so uneasy yesterday, if he hadn’t looked so _sick_ on that airship, and if he hadn’t been distancing himself ever since. It might have been more believable if Ignis didn’t _know_ him so well, and he knew Noctis wasn’t that kind of person, had _never_ been that kind of person, the kind that would have random trysts with suspicious strangers and then go back again when he found out they were dangerous enemies.  
  
Ignis swallowed again and hesitated, but skirting around the issue wouldn’t do them any favours. “It wouldn’t do to get an infection,” he said quietly. “Will you allow me to clean the wound?”  
  
Noctis stared at him and slowly, silently, nodded.  
  
Ignis gave him a small, reassuring smile and patted his knee gently before he got up to get their spare first aid kit, stored amongst their potions, the ones they didn’t carry on themselves. When he sat back down, box in hand, Noctis turned his seat so they could face each other, biting his lip and holding his wrist out obediently. He was silent as Ignis began to clean it with a cotton ball soaked with disinfectant, but Noctis’s eyes never left him the entire time.  
  
If staring at him helped Noctis feel more at ease, if it helped him to relax, then Ignis couldn’t deny him. Instead, he focused on trying to be as gentle as possible, cradling the bruised wrist in one hand, using the other to swipe the ball along the indentations.  
  
“I don’t believe him when he claims he slept with you or anything else last night,” he said after a moment, keeping his eyes on his own hands. “And I don’t believe any claims that you wanted what happened. You’re simply not the type.”  
  
Noctis was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “Aren’t I? Then what type am I?”  
  
“Not that type,” Ignis replied.  
  
They fell silent again, letting the noise of the fire wash over them. And there were so many other things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask. _Did he hurt you anywhere else? Why are your wrists bruised? What caused you to bite down so hard you would break the skin? Did you do that willingly? Did_ he _make you do that?_  
  
He kept silent, clenched his jaw, bit down on his tongue. Noctis just seemed so _quiet_ and his face barely showed any emotion. How could he continue to act as if he was indifferent to it all, as if he wasn’t bruised, as if he wasn’t having nightmares? Didn’t he realize that he didn’t have anything to prove to anyone, that he didn’t have to hide anything? He had every right to be unsettled, after all. Ardyn had _coerced_ him into sleeping with him, he had—  
  
_Gods_. He couldn’t think it. He didn’t even dare _think_ the word.  
  
He had sworn to King Regis and to _himself_ that he would do anything within his power to protect Noctis, and he had simply let him walk away, he had let Noctis fall right into Ardyn’s trap.  
  
He should have stopped it. He should have done more to prevent it from happening. He should have let Gladio take a swing at Ardyn, let him tear the man apart, the consequences be damned. He should have _listened_ to Noctis, _actually_ listened to him, when he said he had a bad feeling about the man.  
  
He should have done _so much more_ to help.  
  
“Ignis?” Noctis murmured.  
  
Ignis realized he was simply staring down at Noctis’s wrist now instead of cleaning it, the cotton ball forgotten in his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
When he looked up, Noctis was frowning and shaking his head a little, as if he didn’t understand. He looked so young and so _vulnerable_ , his eyes shining in the firelight, and it hurt to look at him and to know what had happened, what he had been forced to go through. “For what?” Noctis asked.  
  
Ignis lowered his gaze and turned back to the bite mark, cleaning it off a little more. One could never be too careful when it came to infections. “I should have done something,” he said. “I should have done more to help you, I—”  
  
“Stop,” Noctis said. “If this is you, I don’t know, _blaming_ yourself or something...then stop.” He let out a sigh and shook his head again. “I don’t blame any of you. There’s nothing to blame anyone for.”  
  
Ignis didn’t say anything as he dropped the cotton ball into a small plastic bag inside the box, making a mental reminder to discard it later. Did Noctis honestly believe that? Did he really not hold any of them accountable for what he had to go through?  
  
He would argue, he would make a list of reasons of exactly why he was wrong, except...this was Noctis’s ordeal, this was his pain, and he should have the last say - even _if_ Ignis couldn’t quite accept it, even if he couldn’t shed the guilt.  
  
He doubt he ever could.  
  
“Ignis?” Noctis said again, his voice still quiet, his eyes on the fire.  
  
Ignis stared at him, still holding onto his wrist. “Yes?”  
  
Noctis licked his lips, pursing them for a moment, not quite meeting his gaze when he said, “I didn’t sleep with him last night. When he talked about our rendezvous? That never happened. He lied.”  
  
Ignis squeezed Noctis’s hand in both of his, waiting until his friend actually looked him in the eyes before he said, “I know.”  
  
Noctis let out a breath then, and his shoulders sagged down a little. He almost looked relieved.  
  
Ignis honestly couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or not, that Noctis seemed to take comfort in the fact that Ignis _hadn’t_ believed in a stranger’s lies, as if they hadn’t known each other for nearly eighteen years now, and he cursed that Ardyn had done this, had somehow managed to single handedly upturn their entire world like this, and within barely a day of having him around.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
He couldn’t escape Ardyn no matter how much he tried. When he was awake, he was in his thoughts and memories. When he was asleep, he was in his dreams. There was no escape, nowhere to turn, no place to hide.  
  
It was _over_ now, Ardyn and his airship were long gone, yet he still held so much power over Noctis, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_. It was as if he was Ardyn’s property now. Everything was stuck on that one moment, his entire world had narrowed down to what had happened on that airship, and now Noctis’s body and his life belonged to Ardyn.  
  
And he couldn’t tell which was better, being asleep so he could hide away from his thoughts and the unbearable urge to tear his skin off, or being awake and hiding away from the countless _other_ scenarios his dreams were providing.  
  
He was merely left in the inbetween, dealing with both options, curling up on himself and trying to keep his mind blank, hoping for a sleep that was just as empty. And he ended up muffling his gasps whenever he jerked awake, painfully aware that the others could hear him, hear his weakness, his shame. How could they lie there next to him, knowing what he had done? How could they stand it? Couldn’t they sense his shame? Couldn’t they see it all over him, couldn’t they feel it _emanating_ from him? How could they even bear to look at him after what he’d done?  
  
And yet Ignis had been asking for _forgiveness_ , as if he had done _anything_ wrong, as if he ever could. Noctis should have been begging for _his_ forgiveness, because it had been _his_ decision, and so all of the blame, all of the guilt, the shame, _everything_ , it should fall onto him and him alone. He had to take responsibility for his actions.  
  
And if Ignis blamed himself, did that mean Prompto and Gladio did too? Did they all blame themselves, was that why they were acting so weird?  
  
Maybe if he helped them realize that he had practically brought it upon himself, maybe if he told them what he _really_ was, then that would ease any anger or guilt they might have. He had already admitted to Ignis that Ardyn’s claims had been a lie, he had _told_ him it was a lie, _gods_ _—_ but he hadn’t told him about what had happened in that room. Maybe he wouldn’t act so understanding if he knew _that_ truth.  
  
After all, his body had liked what had happened, it had felt good. It couldn’t have been anything bad if he had liked it, right? And so, if he told them that, would that help?  
  
He would lose their respect - if they even had any left for him - and they would be disgusted with him, to have enjoyed sex with such an older man, and one of their _enemies_ at that. But it would be worth it, if he could just help them feel better about all of this.  
  
He should have been begging all of _them_ for forgiveness, except he was afraid that would be the final straw, the final show weakness that would have them all turning away from him. He couldn’t have them turning away from him, he _couldn’t_.  
  
While having them around was painful and had him more self-conscious than ever, they were probably the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. While they were here, he had to pretend that everything was normal, that he wasn’t such a huge mess, and that seemed far better than simply giving up and letting himself drown in his memories.  
  
He wished he was strong enough to hold it all together.  
  
He wished he was weak enough to ask for their help.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
They usually had an order in which they woke up in the mornings, but Prompto had no idea if it still seemed that way or not. Ignis was already wide awake before them, his alarm going off and jerking Prompto out of his sleep. Ignis would have normally given him a small salute with his mug of coffee, or a raised eyebrow at least, but this time he barely even glanced Prompto’s way. Gladio was awake beside him, rubbing his hands over his eyes and yawning, but it was hard to tell whether he was just waking up or if he had been up all night.  
  
Prompto doubted either of them got much sleep, if any. They looked as tired as he felt. His own rest had been fitful and uncomfortable, jerking awake every now and then, his body alert as if ready for a battle, and yet there was no fight that he was aware of. All he had been aware of were Noctis’s gasps. Perhaps that had been what was waking him up.  
  
At least he seemed to be asleep now. Prompto rolled onto his side to look at his best friend, feeling something clenching in his chest already.  
  
He was still in yesterday’s clothes, and that included his jacket, as if he hadn’t even had the energy to get changed. As if, a small part of Prompto’s brain added, he wanted to be dressed and ready if he found himself in any more danger, as if he wanted to be ready to run as soon as possible.  
  
He was mostly on his back, curled more inwards towards his side, and he would have looked peaceful if it wasn’t for the way his lips were pulled downwards, or if it wasn’t for the bruise and bite mark on his neck so easily visible with his head turned at that angle.  
  
_Gods_. What Noctis had gone through yesterday, what he had _done_ for them. The idea of it still made his eyes sting, the memory of Noctis giving him a reassuring smile before he had walked off, as if everything was perfectly fine, as if it was totally okay for Ardyn to act like such a fucking creep.  
  
Why? Why did Ardyn have to go and demand such things? Why did Noctis have to go along with it, as if it was fine for someone to use him like that, as if he wasn’t worth so much _more_ than that?  
  
It might have made sense if Ardyn’s claim about their ‘rendezvous’ the night before had any sliver of truth to it, but Prompto knew, deep down, that it was total bullshit. There was no way Noctis would have done such a thing.  
  
Well, until he had. Until he had been _forced_ to. And now he was distant, closing himself off and pushing them all away, and Prompto couldn’t understand _why_. He just wanted to be there for him, wanted to help him in any way that he could, but he couldn’t do that when Noctis barely even looked at them, let alone spoke.  
  
Gods, but he wished he had been able to take his friend’s place instead. Maybe then Noctis wouldn’t be so quiet and distant.  
  
“Any idea where we’re headed, then?” Gladio was murmuring.  
  
“The closest form of civilization would be the Chocobo Post, I imagine,” Ignis answered. “It might take us a day or two of travelling on foot as we are.”  
  
“Any places for shelter?”  
  
“Yes, there are a few havens along the way.” Ignis took a long sip from his mug, then turned to look down at his phone. “We should be fine.”  
  
Gladio’s gaze was on Noctis now, his eyes unreadable. “Yeah,” he muttered.  
  
“We’re _not_ fine,” Prompto murmured to them, staring at them from where he still lay on the mat. He wasn’t even sure he had the energy to get up, he was so tired. “Nothing about this is _fine_.”  
  
“Damn it, Prompto,” Gladio said, but his voice was quiet, like he was trying to keep it down so he wouldn’t disturb Noctis. “Don’t you think we know that?”  
  
Prompto bit his lip. “Well then, how do we fix this? How do we help him?”  
  
Ignis’s eyes drifted over to their sleeping friend, his gaze worried and intense. “We can’t help him if he keeps himself so distant,” Ignis said. “Perhaps he just needs his space right now, he needs some time to process it all.”  
  
Prompto looked back over at Noctis. “You sure about that?” Leaving Noctis alone at a time like this seemed like the _worst_ thing to do, but at the same time he had no idea how to talk to his best friend, how to help him through this. Noctis seemed to act almost like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t bothered by what Ardyn had demanded of him.  
  
“No,” Ignis sighed heavily. “I’m _not_ sure.”  
  
Noctis shifted then, rolling over onto his other side, towards them, and his hands fell onto the mat, beside his face. Prompto found himself staring before he could even realize why.  
  
“What the fuck are those?” Gladio snapped.  
  
“Quiet,” Ignis hissed back. “I don’t want you to wake him. And those are his bruises. I saw them last night.”  
  
Bruises? Prompto couldn’t tear his eyes away. Even in the dim light of their tent, Noctis’s wrists were such a livid shade of purple, they looked painful. And they certainly hadn’t been there before, so—   
  
So _Ardyn_ had done that.  
  
The next time Prompto saw that guy, he was going to break his nose, wipe that smug look off his face, the one he had when he had returned on the airship to bid them farewell, sauntering along like a satisfied cat, with a closed off Noctis following behind.  
  
And, as if reading his thoughts, Gladio scoffed and said, “Next time I see that Ardyn guy, fuck—”  
  
“I’m with you there,” Prompto said.  
  
“Anger will get us nowhere,” Ignis stared at them both. “I understand your feelings on the matter, but none of that will help Noctis.”  
  
Prompto couldn’t resist, he reached out and let his fingers brush along one of those dark marks. “So what _do_ we do?” he bit out. “You really think we should just leave him alone?”  
  
“I don’t know, Prompto,” Ignis snapped back, his voice still quiet. “I’m just as lost on how to help him as you are, but I _don’t_ think we should be rushing into violent acts and thoughts of revenge.”  
  
“Do you really think Ardyn was telling the truth?” Gladio asked suddenly. “You think they had a thing going on, that Noct wanted that?”  
  
Prompto stared at him in horror, not sure whether he wanted to throw up or punch Gladio, and Ignis’s eyes and voice were like ice as he said, “Of _course_ he didn’t want it, and I don’t ever want to hear you say such a thing again, understood?”  
  
Gladio glared back, his eyes hard at the threatening tone, and, for a moment, Prompto wondered if there was going to be fight. But then Gladio was shaking his head, running a hand over his face, suddenly looking more confused than anything. “So why’d he say that?” he muttered. “Why did he claim they had something?”  
  
Ignis was silent, frowning a little, but his face was unreadable. “A simple trick, perhaps,” he said after a moment. “It was possibly just meant to throw us off.”  
  
“Mm,” Gladio nodded, but he still didn’t look too sure. “So then why’d he call it a ‘continuation’?”  
  
“I don’t _know_ ,” Ignis said, exasperated. “The same reason?”  
  
“Yeah, except Noct knew _exactly_ what he was talking about.” Gladio’s eyes were serious, his jaw clenched as he glanced between them. “He knew what Ardyn was asking for before any of us caught on.”  
  
Prompto bit his lip, hating the way that Gladio wasn’t exactly _wrong_ , and so what did any of that mean? What did that _mean_? “What are you saying?” he managed to say, his voice strained.  
  
Gladio was silent, not looking at any of them. Then he shrugged and shook his head, his eyes lowered. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Forget it, it’s nothing.”  
  
Noctis shifted then, twitching a little. He let out a gasp, his face scrunching up as he rolled over onto his back, and, for a moment, Prompto thought he was waking up, or that he was already awake, listening to them argue like this. But, no, that wasn’t it. Spending so many nights in the same room or tent had clued him in on Noctis’s various sleeping patterns, and so he knew this one all too well.  
  
So Noctis was going to have more nightmares on top of everything else? Didn’t he deserve to have some _rest_ , at least?  
  
It seemed to be one of the more unpleasant ones too, had him breathing more heavily, his face pained as his head tossed. Prompto bit his lip and pushed himself up, crawled over to his friend, unable to let him suffer through it. “Hey,” he murmured, and he pressed his hand to Noctis’s shoulder hesitantly, adding a little pressure and shaking him gently when he didn’t respond. “Noct, _hey_. Wake up.”  
  
But Noctis didn’t wake up. So Prompto gripped his other shoulder too, leaning closer as he shook him again. “Noct, you’re dreaming. It’s just a dream. Wake _up_.”  
  
Noctis’s eyes opened lazily, unfocused for a moment. But then, as soon as he seemed to register Prompto above him, he was jerking away with a small cry, trying to scramble away, his eyes wide with something like _fear_ , and it hit Prompto like a bucket of freezing cold water. “Whoa, it’s okay!” he said, holding his hands up and leaning back. “Noct, it’s just me. It’s okay.”  
  
“Hey, you all right?” Gladio asked, coming closer, kneeling beside Prompto to look down at their friend.  
  
Noctis was still breathing unsteadily and blinking at them, but his eyes were becoming a little more focused, moving away from them, avoiding their gazes. “Fine,” he muttered, clearing his throat when his voice came out a little too hoarse. He ran his hands over his face, those bruises so stark against his skin, it was all Prompto could look at. “You surprised me, that’s all.”  
  
Prompto fought back a wince, because it was painfully obvious that wasn’t true, and by the looks on Gladio and Ignis’s faces, they didn’t believe it either.  
  
Because, for those few seconds, Noctis had been genuinely afraid of him. He had looked up at Prompto and had seen someone who might _hurt_ him, as if he ever _could_ , and it didn’t take a genius to guess why.  
  
Ardyn. Whatever that asshole had done to Noctis when they had been alone together, whether it was sex or not - _gods, Noct, you didn’t have to do that for us_ \- it had clearly messed with his friend to the point where he no longer felt _safe_.  
  
It was a horrible thought. Because they were his _friends_ , they would never hurt him, and yet he _didn’t feel safe_.  
  
It made him want to cry, but tears wouldn’t help Noctis. Unfortunately, at this point, Prompto didn’t know _what_ would help him. He didn’t know if he _could_ help him.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
He had thought that things might seem better when he woke the next day, that morning would help to clear his mind, bring a fresh perspective on things, maybe even wipe away the pain and the shame completely. He had even thought his friends might stop _looking_ at him like that, would stop treating him in that way, that they could all go back to normal.  
  
He had _hoped_ for it. Like a damn fool.  
  
He had hoped that things would be better, that _he_ would be better, that his _friends_ would be better.  
  
But they weren’t.  
  
_Nothing_ was better.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
“You sure we should be heading out?” Prompto said, glancing towards the tent almost nervously. “You think he’s ready for that?”  
  
“What else are we gonna do?” Gladio replied.  
  
Ignis frowned at him, unsure of the tone he was using. Gladio seemed just as unsettled as he had been yesterday, angry even, as if there was a volcano of emotions beneath the surface just waiting to erupt. It was a little concerning, and Ignis still wasn’t sure how he felt about the other man’s earlier insinuations about Noctis. “I’m _not_ sure,” he said to Prompto.  
  
“Just—” Prompto shifted, simply standing aside and watching as Ignis cleaned up their leftover plates from breakfast, breakfast Noctis had refused to come out for, stating that he wasn’t hungry, that he wanted to sleep more. “I’m not sure we should be dragging him around just yet. I think he needs a little while, you know? To, I don’t know, get his bearings back?”  
  
“You think staying in one place and letting him mull it all over is gonna do him any good?” Gladio raised an eyebrow. “It’s probably better to have him keep moving, keep him busy.”  
  
“And what if he can’t?” Prompto shot back. “What if he’s too distracted and ends up getting hurt along the way? Then what?”  
  
Ignis stacked the plates, then paused, glancing over at them. Prompto had a point, but then so did Gladio. Keeping Noctis busy might, indeed, help him to get his bearings back, but he had already proved to be jumpy and a little dazed. Despite his indifference, he certainly hadn’t been able to concentrate too well yesterday, his eyes distant even as he helped set up camp. That level of attention could prove fatal if they were to venture out.  
  
They could guard him as much as they could, but Noctis would still need to be aware of his surroundings, otherwise he could be in grave danger should the rest of them fall.  
  
“I might have to agree with Prompto on the matter,” Ignis said after a moment, turning to face them. “He could probably do with the rest, even if it’s just for another day. It certainly wouldn’t be wise to send him out while he’s…”  
  
Gladio raised an eyebrow, crossing over his chest. “While he’s what? Messed up?”  
  
Prompto winced, eyes shooting down to the ground, but Ignis could only stare. That wasn’t _quite_ the term he had been looking for, although it, unfortunately, wasn’t entirely inaccurate. He had been looking for a word more like _traumatized_ , but even that had his heart sinking.  
  
Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? Noctis had been forced to endure something he shouldn’t have had to, and now he was struggling with the _trauma_ of it.  
  
Ignis had been trained and educated on a lot of things for his position as Noctis’s advisor and chamberlain, he had even seen about teaching himself some additional things so that he could be as helpful as possible to his friend. What he had never been taught, however, was how to help him in this kind of situation. He wanted nothing more than to _talk_ to Noctis, keep him close, but he wasn’t sure if that would help or exacerbate the situation.  
  
He should ask, the best course of action was to simply _ask_ Noctis himself. Except Noctis had been evasive yesterday, distant, seemingly uncomfortable with the idea of talking about what had happened, and Ignis was worried that pushing it any further might cause him more stress.  
  
“Damn it, if only you hadn’t held me back,” Gladio said suddenly. “Should have let me beat that guy, show him what happens—”  
  
“Not like that would have made it any better,” Prompto murmured sadly. “That guy had us by the balls, man.”  
  
Ignis sighed. “Yes, he did.”  
  
Gladio glared at them both, his shoulders tensing. “And, what, that makes it all _okay_ then? That we just fucking _let_ that happen? ‘Oh, the guy had us by the balls, so let’s just give him what he wants,’ is that it?”  
  
“Of _course_ not,” Ignis snapped back before he could stop himself. “But arguing about it now, or pointing fingers, will _not_ change anything.”  
  
“Guys, please,” Prompto glanced between them both, eyes wide and worried, “This is _so_ not appropriate, we shouldn’t be arguing like this.”  
  
“And why not, huh?” Gladio turned his harsh stare onto him, and Prompto backed up a step, shrinking away. “You scared of owning up to the responsibility?”  
  
“ _No one_ here is responsible for what happened,” Ignis bit out, struggling at the last minute to keep his voice in check. “The only one _responsible_ is that chancellor.” Gladio scoffed and looked away, but it only took a moment, a brief moment of something more anguished in his eyes, and Ignis understood. “I understand that you feel _guilty_ , we _all_ feel guilty, but arguing amongst ourselves won’t solve anything.”  
  
“So what _will_ solve it?” Gladio snapped back. “Huh? You’ve got so many answers for everything, how do we solve _this_?”  
  
“Not with you guys arguing about this behind my back, that’s for sure.”  
  
They all whirled around at the new voice behind them. Noctis was stood there, dressed in fresh clothes, arms crossed over his chest, eyeing them almost irritably, and for a moment, for a brief moment, he seemed like his regular self.  
  
“How long have you been there?” Gladio muttered.  
  
“Long enough,” Noctis replied. “Kinda hard to get some sleep with you guys bickering like that.”  
  
Ignis fought back a wince, guilt running through him within an instant. “We weren’t—”  
  
“Oh, we were just—” Prompto was saying at the same time, his eyes wide and nervous.  
  
Noctis raised an eyebrow at them. “Yeah, sure,” he drawled, cutting them off before they could babble out any excuses. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing out here, _stop_ it.”  
  
“We’re _trying_ to find a way to solve things,” Gladio said.  
  
Noctis stared back at him. “You can’t, so stop trying.”  
  
Gladio made a noise, running a hand over his face. “So, what, you think we should just go on pretending like none of that ever happened?”  
  
Prompto’s mouth fell open and Ignis glared at the shield. “Gladio,” he snapped out.  
  
“Yup,” Noctis said. His voice was strange, almost harsh, and his eyes were unreadable still. But it seemed like there was something unsure about him, something a little like the vulnerability of last night.  
  
“Right,” Gladio said, and Ignis winced at the slightly harsh tone, “So none of that back there—”  
  
“None of what back where?” Noctis cut him off, staring at his shield, eyebrows raised.  
  
It was Gladio’s turn to look a little unsure, seeming more like he was beginning to regret the conversation, but there was still some sort of strange determination in his eyes. “We need to _talk_ about this, Noct—”  
  
“Talk about _what_ , exactly?” Noctis snapped. “You, what—you want all the dirty little details or something? You want to talk about how I _fucked_ Ardyn, is that it?”  
  
Gladio winced and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”  
  
“It sure as hell sounds like it,” Noctis said. He pursed his lips, something flickering behind his eyes. “Look, I get that you’re freaked out by what I did, but I _had_ to do it, don’t you get that?”  
  
“And how do we know you had to?” Gladio snapped back.  
  
Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think we should be arguing like this,” he said, but neither of them looked like they were about to see reason. Gladio shouldn’t have been pushing this at all, Noctis looked like he was about to snap at any moment. “Noct—”  
  
“Shut up,” Noctis snapped at him, before turning back to Gladio. “I thought it was pretty obvious that—”  
  
“Oh, come on, Noct,” Gladio said, “All that talk about his comrades? For all we knew, his excuse could have been total bullshit.”  
  
Noctis shook his head. “Yeah, and you know what? Prompto was right, he had us by the balls. He would have gotten what he wanted anyway, and it didn’t matter _how_ he got it.”  
  
“Yeah, a continuation,” Gladio glanced at Ignis, and Ignis had to admit, he was still far too puzzled by the chancellor’s choice of words, it left him feeling a little uneasy. Gladio was frowning, swallowing, and he said, “What did that mean, Noct? What did he mean by ‘continuation’?”  
  
Noctis let out a harsh laugh, a derisive sound, and it had Ignis’s blood running cold. “What does it _sound_ like? We fucked the night before too, right against the Regalia.”  
  
“ _Noct_.”  
  
“Noct,” Ignis echoed, a little more softly, staring at him.  
  
And Noctis stared back, not quite meeting his eyes, because he had admitted to Ignis last night that Ardyn’s claims had been mere lies and they both knew it. There was no going back on that. When he spoke, his voice was a little less harsh, a little more desperate, “What do you want me to say? Nothing happened, okay? He made a pass at me, I brushed him off, end of story.”  
  
A _pass_ at him? Ardyn had made a pass at him, as in he had approached him sexually, attempted a touch or a kiss, maybe even more?  
  
Prompto’s eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in horror. “Wait, what do you mean he made a _pass_ at you?”  
  
“You call that _nothing_?” Ignis said. When had this happened, and why hadn’t he said anything? Was it before or after he had come to Ignis with his concerns? Dear _gods_ , what if it had been _before_ he had come to Ignis? What if Noctis had been trying to warn him about this?  
  
“And you didn’t think to mention that?” Gladio was saying, his eyes wide with disbelief and anger and so many other emotions, and Ignis couldn’t really blame him. “Fuck, you should have _told_ us! We wouldn’t have gone anywhere _near_ him—”  
  
“Yeah, I _know_ that,” Noctis cut in. “But we needed to get to the Disc, and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it anyway. It’s not like he got to do anything.”  
  
“Yeah, not until later when you let him.” Noctis flinched at that, quickly looking away, and even Gladio was wincing, clearly regretting the words the moment they left his mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly. “ _Fuck_ , Noct, I didn’t mean it to sound like that, I—”  
  
“No, it’s okay, I deserve it,” Noctis said, his voice just as quiet, but he wasn’t looking at any of them anymore. “I _whored_ myself out to the Chancellor of fucking _Niflheim_. You can say whatever you want.”  
  
“Noct,” Prompto winced. “Come on, you didn’t whore yourself—”  
  
“No?” Noctis glanced over at him. “What else would you call it? I _slept_ with a Niff to make sure that we could get out of there safely. And you know what else? I’d do it again, I’d let _anyone_ do it to me again, if it meant I could keep you guys safe. So what the _fuck_ does that make me?”  
  
Ignis stepped closer, alarmed at the _tone_ he was speaking in, the disgust, the anguish in his eyes, but Noctis was already walking away from them. “Noct,” Ignis called, more than worried now. “Noct, where are you going?”  
  
“I need to clear my head,” Noctis called back. “I’ll be back soon.” He didn’t even glance back at them once as he approached the edge of the haven, jumping down the rocks. A moment later, they could see him disappear off into the trees.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Gladio smacked his hand against one of the campfire chairs, knocking it over.  
  
Ignis stared at the shield, more surprised than anything at what had just happened. It wasn’t uncommon for Noctis and Gladio to butt heads like that, but for it to happen when Noctis was clearly going through a rough time, for Gladio to allow it to get out of hand like that, it was strange to say the least.  
  
But then he recalled the anger he had obviously been burying down since Noctis had walked off with Ardyn, the caged way he had paced that airship, the way he had glared at the chancellor. Gladio was _beyond_ outraged, beyond furious, that much was obvious, but he had clearly never meant to aim it at Noctis.  
  
Anger was a troublesome thing, however. It couldn’t always be controlled, and sometimes it reared its head even when it was least wanted, goaded out of hiding at the slightest bit of conflict. Gladio wasn’t angry at Noctis, nowhere near it, and that much was clear, but he _was_ angry at the chancellor and what he had done to Noctis.  
  
Ignis could understand that anger. He felt it himself. He wanted nothing more than to find that airship again, drag Ardyn out of it by his neck and have him _pay_ for what he had done. But the chancellor wasn’t here, and none of that would help Noctis right now.  
  
And now Noctis was out on his own, trying to cool off the way he usually would after an argument with his shield, except who knew what else was going on through his head. Surely he would realize that Gladio’s anger was more out of _concern_ for him, surely he _knew_ that his shield wasn’t truly angry with him?  
  
The uncertainty left Ignis restless with worry.  
  
They were in no condition to venture out like this, not with Prompto acting as nervous and jittery as he was, not with Gladio’s anger getting the better of him, not with Ignis’s own guilt affecting his judgements.  
  
Not with Noctis still clearly struggling.  
  
Prompto was staring at Gladio. “Yeah, nice job there, man.”  
  
Gladio stared back at him, helpless.  
  
“Seriously, what the _fuck_ were you thinking, raging at him like that?” Prompto bit out.  
  
“I don’t _know_ ,” Gladio ran a hand through his hair, his eyes nowhere near as angry as they had been. “I didn’t _mean_ to.”  
  
Prompto let out a sigh and stared out at the trees. “Well, I’m going after him,” he announced after a moment. “I don’t care what he says, I’m not leaving him alone like this.” He glanced over at Ignis, as if looking for confirmation, for permission.  
  
Ignis nodded. “Yes, perhaps it’s for the best.”  
  
Prompto returned his nod, and, without another word, he started heading towards the edge of the haven. Before he could reach the edge of the rocks, Gladio called out, “Prompto.”  
  
Prompto stopped and half-turned towards him, silent.  
  
Gladio winced. “Tell him...tell him I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of that.”  
  
Prompto was many things. Happy, excitable, childish sometimes, hyperactive, there had been many times Ignis had had to remind him to calm down, especially while they were out on a hunt and things were looking dangerous.  
  
But he had never looked so angry as he did now, his eyes hard, practically _glaring_ at Gladio for what might have possibly been the first time in all of the years they had known each other. “When I bring him back,” he said, “you can tell him yourself.”  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Gods, what had he just done? What had he _done_?  
  
Gladio had seemed _so angry_ , something harsh in his eyes from the moment Noctis had lost control of the conversation, and he found himself constantly going over that moment in his head, desperately trying to figure out what was going on in Gladio’s mind. Had Noctis seen something concerned in his eyes, despite his tone, despite his words? He had regretted his words, had wanted to take them back, that much was obvious, but did it go any further than that, or was that wishful thinking?  
  
He just couldn’t tell what any of them were feeling anymore. Were they angry, were they disgusted, were they sad? Ignis had claimed they felt guilty about what had happened - _guilty_ , as if they had done _anything_ wrong - but was that really true? One emotion seemed to bleed into another and Noctis couldn’t keep up, he couldn’t quite read his friends like he had been able to before, and it was more than a little frustrating.  
  
And that was what it all came down to, wasn’t it? Before and after. His world had been halted, flipped, turned into something different, and he found himself clinging to the memories of the old world, the one where he hadn’t been such a stranger to himself and their little group hadn’t been this broken mess it was now.  
  
They were broken. They were all broken, and he had made them that way.  
  
And he had told them. He had told them how much of a fucking _disgusting_ person he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate to sleep with countless others if it meant he could protect them. He had just wanted to _protect_ them, he hadn’t expected that it would turn into such a mess. He hadn’t expected that it would _affect_ him so damn much.  
  
As horrible as the thought was, as much as it made him cringe, he entertained the idea of being with another for a moment, thought about how he might let someone else touch his body. It was a sickening image, but he would do it if he had to. Maybe it would be different, maybe he could even learn to enjoy it properly.  
  
Maybe he could even seek someone out in his own time, he could find some random nobody at the next pit stop they made. Maybe he could find someone else, another man to take Ardyn’s place, to wipe away the memory of his touches and replace it with their own. Maybe he could even feel better about his own body then, take back _control_ over his own body and its reactions, take the pleasure for himself when he actually _wanted_ it, instead of having it suddenly being thrust upon him without his consent.  
  
Maybe that would make everything feel better.  
  
Somehow, he doubted it.  
  
Noctis winced, suddenly all too aware of Ardyn’s accusations about his friends. They were lies, they were all _lies_. He had _never_ tempted them, as Ardyn had claimed. He had never dangled himself in front of them, he had never led them on, had never made them think he wanted anything more than their friendship. Right? Surely he hadn’t done that, right?  
  
And surely they didn’t, they _couldn’t_ , think of him in any other way than platonic. Surely he would have noticed if they were _watching_ him, as the chancellor had claimed. But then, Noctis really didn’t know _anything_ about this stuff, the signs to look for. Hell, he hadn’t even been aware of Ardyn’s own intentions until the older man had forced himself on him.  
  
_“And how could anyone say no to this face?”_  
  
Noctis found himself on his knees, gasping, burying his hands in his hair as that feeling came back, that strange, distant feeling, the world slipping away from him, growing farther and farther away no matter how hard he tried to reach out to it.  
  
Was that what it was? Was it his face, was that what had tempted Ardyn? He wasn’t anything _good_ to look at, he had never thought so, but it must have been enough to draw Ardyn in, made him feel as if he could make a move. Was it the same for the others, was that what Ardyn had meant?  
  
He couldn’t get a grip on the world, he couldn’t grip it. He pulled out blades of grass from beneath his fingers, dug his nails into the dirt, sat up to lean his head back into the bark of the nearest tree, but it wasn’t enough. He just couldn’t _feel_ it. And the more he focused on the strange, _strange_ feeling, the more he felt himself slipping away, dizzy with it, the world tilting on its axis until he felt like he was falling away, disappearing into nothing.  
  
He was merely a ghost, peering in on the living realm, and no one would ever know he was there should they pass by.  
  
It would have been a nice thought, to disappear, to fade away and be forgotten. It would have been nice to have his friends forget what he had done, to have his slate wiped clean. It was a nice idea, and he would have revelled in it, if it wasn’t for the fact that his heart wouldn’t stop pounding in his chest, if it wasn’t for the fact that he felt so _sick_ with the sensation, like he was seconds away from panicking.  
  
Noctis sat back against the tree, staring up at the sky above, pressing his hand over his mouth as he tried to steady his breathing, and he could see those awful, _awful_ bruises on his wrists. Signs of his shame, there for the world to see. He almost wanted to try and cut them out, scratch at his skin until they were gone, but he didn’t _deserve_ for them to be gone. He had to keep them, to remind himself never to fuck up so badly ever again.  
  
But, somehow, he didn’t think he would ever stop messing up. Every decision he made was the wrong one. How was he _ever_ supposed to be king when he couldn’t make a good decision to save his life?  
  
_Stop, stop, stop_. Noctis ran his hands over his face, pressing his head further back into the tree until it hurt. He had been trying to shove it all down, that had been _the plan_ , to bury it down so it wouldn’t bother him, to fight against it, to brush it aside and fool everyone into thinking he had gone along with Ardyn willingly, because, at least then, if he kept acting like that, then maybe he would end up believing it himself and things would be easier.  
  
But it wasn’t working anymore. Maybe it hadn’t been working in the first place, and now he was left feeling like he was on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall at any moment and it left him restless, left him _nervous_ , it made him want to scream with frustration, because he used to be stronger than this, he used to be able to control his thoughts better than this. Maybe he had never quite been able to hold his shit together, but he had never been _this_ much of a mess.  
  
And why? Because he’d had sex with someone?  
  
Everything was just so fucked up now, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make it right.  
  
“Noct! Noct, you here buddy?”  
  
Noctis winced. Prompto, _gods_ , and he was close by the sounds of it, he would find him at any moment, he would see how much of a mess he had become. He was tempted to get up, to climb to his feet and make a run for it, to never stop running until they couldn’t find him ever again.  
  
But there was also that part, that small, weak, _desperate_ part, that wanted Prompto to find him.  
  
If he could just get it out in the open. If he could just get his mouth to work properly and get it _out_ there, then maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was about to drown in his own thoughts, maybe then he wouldn’t feel like he was going insane.  
  
But he was too afraid that letting it out would be the end, it would break him, and they would turn away, leave him behind to be crushed under the weight of it all.  
  
“Noct?”  
  
“I’m here,” Noctis called out before he could stop himself. He ran his hands over his face and stood up, turning to head in the direction Prompto’s voice was coming from.  
  
It didn’t take very long to find him. Past a few more trees and back in the direction of the campsite, he was looking around frantically, pale, face pinched in worry, and Noctis felt a stab of regret that he had just walked off like that. Prompto _actually_ looked worried, and Noctis had done that to him.  
  
But there was relief on his face as Prompto’s eyes landed on him, his shoulders sagged down a little. “There you are,” he breathed out, but Noctis could only shrug in return, feeling a little awkward, not knowing what to say.  
  
He only had enough time to take in the sound of rushing feet, fast and heavy on the ground and coming straight towards him from a different direction, from somewhere that _wasn’t_ Prompto’s direction, and then he was being thrown down onto his back.  
  
“Noct!” Prompto yelled.  
  
Noctis grit his teeth and fought back a cry as the sabertusk pinned him down, claws scratching over his shoulder and his stomach, its jaws locked around his arm. Where the fuck had it even _come_ from? How hadn’t he been aware of it any sooner?  
  
Oh gods, was it because he had been so dazed, so fucking _disorientated_? So disconnected from the world that he couldn’t keep an eye out for himself? So fucking messed up that he’d let a simple sabertusk get the drop on him?  
  
_It’s your way out, here’s your way_ out _, now you don’t have to tell them anything if you let it tear you apart, it can be over if you just let it, let it, let it_ _—_  
  
“No!” Noctis heard himself yell, and he had his leg up under it, pressing his foot against its belly, trying to drag his arm out of its grasp while pushing it away.  
  
Gunshots were ringing out, loud and startling, and he flinched at the sound of them, the way they seemed to bounce off the trees and echo right through him. Above him, the sabertusk let out several cries, its body jerking as the bullets hit it, and Noctis took the opportunity to pull a dagger out of the armoury, shoving it straight into the creature’s throat.  
  
The sabertusk jerked and fell limp, and Noctis rolled it over, shoved it off of him, ripping his dagger from its body so he could shove it back in again, making sure it was completely dead.  
  
Prompto was there instantly, crouching down beside him, grabbing at him. “Noct,” he barked out, his voice almost frantic. “Noct, are you okay? Talk to me, man.”  
  
Noctis could only stare down at the sabertusk, more than a little dazed, horror creeping in at what had just happened.  
  
This wasn’t good, _this wasn’t good_. Was he really this fucked up now? Had Ardyn fucked him up in the head so much that he was now a _danger_ to himself? Had he really just thought about letting that sabertusk _kill_ him?  
  
The thought was a sickening one, cold and harsh, and it was so very _frightening_ to discover that he had such a thing inside him, that those thoughts held potential.  
  
“Noct!”  
  
Noctis reached out to clutch at Prompto’s jacket. It was more of an automatic movement than anything else, but he couldn’t help but notice that it was just like last night, with Ignis, when he had felt _grounded_ under his touch. He had felt more connected with things when Ignis had been checking over his wrists, and now, holding onto Prompto, it was just the same. He could cling to this world, he could feel a little more solid.  
  
“Hey, I got you,” Prompto murmured. “I got you, don’t worry.” He let out a little laugh then, although it was far too shaky and weak. “Man, am I glad I came out here to find you.”  
  
It stabbed through him, sharp and cold, like ice. If Prompto hadn’t come out here, would Noctis have actually made it out of that alive? Would he still be _alive_?  
  
“You can’t leave me on my own,” Noctis forced himself to say. It sounded clingy and awful and _weak_ , and his heart pounded in his chest at the admittance, but it was the truth. He couldn’t be left on his own now, because if he did then there might be that temptation again, and he might not always be able to fight against it. “Don’t let me be on my own.”  
  
Prompto shook his head, and he was frowning, eyes concerned. “I won’t. I’m right here, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
  
~&~  
  
  
Gunshots echoing out from the trees immediately had Ignis on edge, and he looked over at Gladio, their eyes meeting. Gunshots meant Prompto was fighting against something, and he had gone off in the same direction Noctis had, so there was every chance they were fighting something together. Sure, they could most definitely hold their own, but was Noctis really in the right frame of mind to be battling? What if it was something strong?  
  
“Shit,” Gladio muttered. He had his phone pressed to his ear, but he pulled it away, glaring down at the screen. “Neither of them are picking up their phones. Should we go and find them?”  
  
Ignis considered it. There was every possibility that one or both of them were hurt, that they would need help getting back to camp, especially if they weren’t answering Gladio’s phone calls. But, then, would rushing out to find them be a bit too smothering for Noctis if it turned out they were unharmed?  
  
He was just about to say damn it all and have them prepare to set out, when he saw two figures breaking through the trees, and his heart sank. Noctis was hurt. It didn’t seem like it at first, as he was walking back to the haven without any assistance, Prompto by his side, but the closer he got, the more Ignis could make out the red splatters on his t-shirt and his arm.  
  
“What happened?” Ignis called out as they climbed up the rocks, feeling more than dismayed at the blood on his friend and the slightly shell-shocked look in his eyes.  
  
Prompto gave him a helpless look and a small shrug, but Noctis didn’t even look at them. “Where’s the first aid kit?” he asked instead.  
  
“Over there,” Ignis pointed down by the storage box, the one they kept their potions in. It was exactly where he’d left it last night. “Noct, what happened?”  
  
Noctis still wasn’t looking at him. “Sabertusk,” he said. “Caught me by surprise. No big deal.”  
  
“Is that what the shots were about?” Gladio asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Prompto was the one who answered, nodding, but his eyes were still on Noctis. “We got it off him.”  
  
“I’m gonna clean up,” Noctis announced, and then he was practically diving into the tent, letting the flap fall closed behind him.  
  
Prompto stepped forward. “Wait, Noct—” but Noctis wasn’t answering, and Prompto was biting his lip, looking at Ignis unsurely. “Something’s wrong,” he said quietly. “He told me he doesn’t wanna be left on his own.”  
  
And considering Noctis looked too startled by something, then it was safe to say that there was a problem. Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose, glanced at the tent and nodded. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, and he turned towards the tent, climbing in.  
  
Behind him, he heard Gladio mutter, “How about you tell me what happened back there?”  
  
Yes, Ignis would also like to know just what had caused all of this, but none of that mattered as the flap fell into place. The light inside the tent wasn’t the best when working with injuries, but it was still more than enough to see the damage done to Noctis’s arm, the slashes on his t-shirt.  
  
The way he was just sitting there, legs crossed, staring down at the kit in his lap.  
  
Ignis approached him slowly, sitting down next to him, and Noctis acted like he wasn’t even there. But Ignis wasn’t going to let him shut himself away anymore. He couldn’t. “Would you like me to clean your wounds?” he murmured, keeping his voice hushed and between themselves, hoping it might make Noctis feel safe and relaxed, hoping it might get rid of that look in his eyes. “Or I could find you a potion.”  
  
“No potion,” Noctis said, his voice just as low. “Yeah, you can—please.”  
  
Ignis took the kit from Noctis’s lap and opened it up, taking out the disinfectant and the flask of water they used to clean up blood, the bandages, the balls made of cotton wool.  
  
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Noctis said after a moment.  
  
Ignis looked up at him, a new flash of concern running through him, especially when Noctis still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I—” Noctis swallowed and, instead, watched as Ignis began cleaning the blood away from his arm. “I _let_ that thing hurt me. I—I wanted it to.”  
  
Ignis pursed his lips together and nodded. And this was why they weren’t setting out today, maybe not even tomorrow. Noctis was far too vulnerable right now, and this was just further proof that they couldn’t always keep an eye on him. “Is that why you don’t want to be on your own?” Ignis asked. “Prompto mentioned something about that.”  
  
“Yeah,” Noctis’s voice came out a little strangled. “I don’t—I just—”  
  
“It’s all right,” Ignis said gently.  
  
Noctis looked up then, actually met his eyes, and, dear gods, his friend should never have looked so _haunted_. “It’s not,” he said. “I could’ve gotten myself _killed_ out there, I almost _wanted_ it to kill me, and I don’t get why.” He ran his free hand through his hair, tugging at it a little. “I’m just—everything’s so fucked now, and I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  
  
“Noct,” Ignis murmured. He cleaned away the rest of the blood and switched it with the disinfectant, trying to remain as gentle as possible. “You have been through something highly traumatic, you’re bound to feel a little...out of control.”  
  
“Out of control?” Noctis echoed quietly.  
  
Ignis nodded. “Yes, and there is nothing wrong with that, there is nothing wrong with feeling the way you do.”  
  
Noctis snorted and glanced away. “I dunno, been feeling some pretty stupid things.”  
  
“There is nothing stupid about this, and there is nothing wrong about struggling with the trauma of it—”  
  
“What are you talking about? There’s no trauma,” Noctis was clearly going for a lighthearted tone, an unaffected tone, but it was weak now, it was as weak as it had been last night, especially with his eyes averted the way they were, with the way he still looked so scared. “I wanted it, remember?”  
  
“You know I won’t believe that,” Ignis murmured. “We both know it’s a lie.”  
  
Noctis nodded and lowered his head.  
  
They were both quiet as Ignis finally finished up with the disinfectant. He bandaged the arm up, sitting back once he was done, uncomfortable and tense. He cleared his throat, but he couldn’t quite meet Noctis’s gaze as he asked, “Forgive me, but may you lay down on your back, so I can properly tend to your stomach?”  
  
Noctis snorted, and he _almost_ looked amused. “No need to get so formal on me,” he said, but he also hesitated, briefly, before he peeled his shirt off and tossed it aside, his eyes lowering as he laid down.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ignis couldn’t help but say, hating that look in his friend’s eyes, wanting to take it away, wanting to help him stop looking so nervous and tense. “If you’re too uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop, you can move away anytime you need—”  
  
“Stop babbling, Specs,” Noctis murmured. “I trust you, so it’s okay.”  
  
He trusted him. Even after Ignis had handled everything terribly, even after he had allowed Noctis and Gladio to argue like pack animals fighting for dominance, even after he had practically thrown him to the Chancellor of Niflheim.  
  
Noctis trusted him.  
  
The claw marks on his stomach looked painful. Not deep enough to require stitches, but enough that he would be feeling them for a few days. Why he refused potions was beyond Ignis, but Noctis had every right to decide what happened with his body. They needed to adhere to that fact now more than ever.  
  
There were also bruises on his hips, poking out from the waistband of his jeans. Fingerprints. Ignis blinked and bit back the anger that tried to come out. Anger would do nothing to help them right now.  
  
So, instead, he swallowed it down, maneuvered himself so he was sitting close to his friend, and he began cleaning away the blood coming from the scratch marks, trying to be gentle, making his movements slow so Noctis knew exactly what he was doing and had time to pull away if he ever felt overwhelmed.  
  
But he didn’t pull away. He was silent, staring up at the tent ceiling, almost thoughtful. And then he said, “Do you guys hate me?”  
  
“What?” Ignis blinked and looked up. “No, of course we don’t.”  
  
“No?” Noctis laughed a little, but it was such a bitter sound, it left a chill down Ignis’s spine. “I wouldn’t blame you, you know. If you guys hate me for what I did.”  
  
“No one hates you, Noct. We’re worried about you. You’ve just been through something terrible, and we want to help.”  
  
“Gladio looked like he hated me. Did you see his face? He’s disgusted. And _pissed_.”  
  
“Noct,” Ignis said, pausing in his ministrations, waiting for his friend to look at him. “I _assure_ you, despite...the poor way he handled things earlier, he is not disgusted or angry with you. None of us are. The source of our anger is that no good chancellor, the man who had no right to hurt you the way he did.”  
  
Noctis fell silent again, breathing a little more unsteadily this time. And then, quietly, he said, “You understand why I did it, right? You understand why I had to?”  
  
And, _gods help him_ , he _did_ understand. Ardyn could very well have been playing them with his pitiful excuse that his comrades might not approve of him helping Lucian citizens, but the fact remained that he’d had the advantage over them. If Noctis had refused him, if they had done more to step in - like he so _desperately_ wished they had, he still wished they had stepped in despite the risks - then there had been every chance that he would have done _more_ , he might have hurt Noctis anyway, he might have taken them all back to Niflheim.  
  
Noctis had seen an opportunity to protect his friends from any harm and he had taken it, damn the consequences of what it might do to himself. He was foolishly protective like that.  
  
“Yes,” Ignis said, just as quietly, his shoulders and his heart heavy. “I hate that you felt you had to do that for us, but I understand.”  
  
“I just—” Noctis swallowed audibly. He shuddered under Ignis’s hand, but whether it was because of the disinfectant, Ignis’s touch, or the memories, he wasn’t sure. “I had no choice, I _had_ to keep us safe, and it wasn’t like it was such a terrible thing to give up anyway—”  
  
“Noct,” Ignis frowned, reaching out to squeeze Noctis’s uninjured arm, a cold jolt of alarm running through him at the words he had used, because he _couldn’t_ mean what Ignis thought he meant, could he? “Noctis, had you...had you ever had sex _before_ that?”  
  
Noctis turned his head away, pursing his lips together and blinking rapidly. “No,” he said.  
  
Ignis let out a breath and he hung his head. “Oh, Noct, I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “It shouldn’t have been that way.”  
  
“Don’t start getting all chick-flick on me,” Noctis said, like he was trying to make things lighter again, and it looked like he was trying to smile, but it clearly wasn’t working very well. “Like my first time should have been special or something.”  
  
“It certainly shouldn’t have been like _that_ , with that man,” Ignis said, and his heart ached for his friend. Noctis had always been shy and withdrawn, it took a _while_ to get him to feel comfortable around a new friend, for him to open up and come out of his shell. So it shouldn’t have been surprising to hear that Noctis had no prior experience, and yet Ignis had, foolishly, assumed that he had dallied about at _some_ point.  
  
But he hadn’t, and now his first sexual encounter was with a man at least twice his age and while he had been under duress at the time.  
  
They were silent for a while then. Ignis cleaned up the wounds as best as he could and applied some gauze both to his shoulder and his stomach, eyeing those fingerprint bruises with a sense of dread. When he sat back, he eyed Noctis, unsure of himself, but he had to ask. “Noct,” he murmured. “Please, tell me the truth. Did he...did he hurt you?”  
  
Noctis didn’t say anything for a long moment, his body tense and almost _quivering_ beside him. Then he shifted, rolled over onto his side, curled up on himself. He let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniff, and, _gods_ , Ignis hoped beyond anything that he wasn’t crying. “No,” Noctis said eventually, quietly, his voice a little more strained. “He—it— _Ignis_.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Ignis whispered, and he leaned closer, pressing a hand to his shoulder, trying to give him _some_ form of comfort.  
  
Noctis took a few shaky breaths before he was able to say, “It—it felt _good_.” He rolled further into the mat again, lifting his arms to cover his face a little, as if he wanted to hide away, and his voice was only slightly muffled when he spoke again. “Ignis, I—he made me—I _came_ , Ignis.”  
  
Ignis closed his eyes, fighting to control his breathing. “Sex is supposed to feel good, Noct,” he said quietly, and he knew that wouldn’t do anything to help his friend, especially not with the _shame_ so very clear in that voice, and what had happened between Noctis and the chancellor was clearly anything _but_ sex. Still, he had to _try_ , he had to try and make Noctis see that he had done nothing wrong. “We cannot always control the way our bodies react in different situations.”  
  
“I didn’t _want_ it to react,” Noctis said. “I didn’t want it to feel good with _him_ , I just—I just…”  
  
“I know,” Ignis moved his hand into Noctis’s hair, brushing his fingers through it like when they were younger, but he paused when a thought hit him. “Is this—is it all right if I touch you like this? I’ll understand if you want me to stop, I should have asked in the first place.”  
  
“No, please,” Noctis turned suddenly, rolling onto his back again, but he kept his eyes averted. “It feels better. Makes me feel—I don’t know, grounded or something. Makes me feel more real.”  
  
Ignis frowned at him, feeling that concern wash over him again. “You don’t feel real right now?”  
  
Noctis shook his head. “Like...everything’s far away, like I can’t connect to the world,” he murmured. He glanced up at Ignis, a little self-consciously. “Sorry, don’t know how to explain it.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Ignis said, and he continued stroking his hand through his friend’s hair, grateful that his touch wasn’t causing him any stress.  
  
Noctis bit his lip, glancing in his direction every now and then. “Can I ask you something? In confidence?”  
  
Ignis blinked. “Of course.”  
  
“Have you…” Noctis paused, looking away again, his fingers playing with the edges of his gauze already. Ignis allowed the fidgeting for now, if it would help him feel less uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, rushing his words out as he said, “Have you guys—have you ever thought about me? In _that_ way?”  
  
Ignis paused, more surprised than anything else. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Never. Why? Why do you ask?”  
  
Noctis shook his head, eyes still fixated on his fingers.  
  
“Is that what _he_ told you?” Ignis asked him, keeping his voice gentle. Noctis’s gaze flicked up to him and it was confirmation enough. Ignis shook his head again. “More lies.”  
  
Noctis smiled then, weak and wobbly, his eyes shining a little, and it seemed like he was relieved. But then he was sighing as he got his hands under him, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, and Ignis disentangled his hand from his friend’s hair. “What am I supposed to do?” Noctis said. “I don’t know what to do.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“About everything. All of this. I’ve made such a huge mess of things, and I don’t know what to do about it.”  
  
“You haven’t made a mess of things, don’t be silly,” Ignis murmured. “Although, I know it must seem that way, with how we’ve all been a bit on edge. We feel guilty for what happened, and we want to help you, but we don’t know how.”  
  
Noctis stared at him. “Even Gladio?”  
  
“Especially Gladio,” Ignis nodded.  
  
“That’s...good to hear,” Noctis said, returning his nod before he hung his head, his hair shielding his eyes. Ignis wanted to tell him that it was okay to show his emotions, it was okay to _hurt_ \- and he so clearly hurt - but pushing him wouldn’t solve anything. Noctis had to process things in his own time, at his own pace.  
  
“You should eat something,” Ignis said after a moment.  
  
“I can’t eat,” Noctis muttered. “My stomach feels all weird.”  
  
That was understandable, but Noctis hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday at breakfast. Perhaps he could make him some soup later, or something small, light on his stomach if he was feeling too anxious. “Will you at least drinking something, for now?”  
  
Noctis nodded. “Can I stay in here, though? I’m not ready to go out there.”  
  
Ignis gave him a smile. “Of course. As long as you need.” He gave Noctis’s hand a brief squeeze before he reached out and grabbed his friend’s bag, taking out another t-shirt, handing it over as he said, “I’ll see what I can get you.”  
  
“Can you—” Noctis took the t-shirt, but he was staring at him, a little tense. “I don’t know, can you send Prompto in? I don’t—I don’t think I can be on my own yet.”  
  
Yes, Noctis’s worry that he might cause himself some harm. The idea of it was an alarming one, especially considering he had managed to get so cut up from a mere sabertusk, and Ignis wasn’t objective to keeping him on observation while he was so vulnerable and worried. “Of course,” he nodded. “I’ll send him in.”  
  
Noctis let out a breath. “Thanks,” he said, his shoulders relaxing, and he looked so, _so_ grateful it was almost painful to see.  
  
And Ignis could only nod again, hoping Noctis believed how much he meant it when he responded with, “Anytime.”  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Ignis knew.  
  
Ignis knew he hadn’t wanted it, _any_ of it, had been forced to enjoy it, and he still looked him in the eyes, he still touched him with the same care as ever, he still—  
  
He still cared. He still wanted to help.  
  
Ignis had been telling him he was there for Noctis, had even offered for him to talk about what had happened, and yet Noctis had been so caught up in the idea that what he had to say might make his friend turn his back on him.  
  
Yet Ignis knew the _worst_ of it, and he hadn’t turned away. He hadn’t left.  
  
He had been trying to swallow it all down, trying to bury it deep inside, but there was almost some relief in having Ignis know what he now knew. He knew and he stilled cared and that was one of the biggest reliefs Noctis could have ever asked for.  
  
And he felt almost restless with this sudden knowledge, and with the possibility that Prompto and Gladio felt the same way, that they might not actually treat him any differently because of what he’d done.  
  
And if getting it all out into the open helped fix this mess they were in, if it brought them together again, if it brought him more of that relief, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
Gladio stared out at the horizon before him, torn between going out into the trees to kill some things, and staying to keep watch despite the fact that they were perfectly safe in the haven. While he was sat at the very edge of the camp, he still wasn’t far enough away to miss the sounds of Ignis coming back out of the tent and instructing Prompto to go inside. Gladio wanted to go in, wanted to see Noctis for himself, see if he was okay, but he didn't dare.  
  
Because of course he wasn’t. Physically he hadn’t looked in too bad a shape, despite the blood all over him. Emotionally, of course, was an entirely different story.  
  
And, just like that, it all came back again, and Gladio clenched his jaw, breathed through his anger. The nerve of that guy, that _chancellor_ , to harass Noctis like that, to make a pass at him and then demand his body in exchange for their safety, to _use_ him, to clearly unsettle him so much that Noctis now felt as if he deserved to be referred to as a _whore_.  
  
He winced at the thought and rubbed a hand over his mouth. Noctis was a lot of things, but a whore wasn’t one of them.  
  
He couldn’t help but think back to those bruises on his wrists, the shapes of hands, the flash of anger he had felt at the idea that Noctis might have been held down. And the bite mark on his throat, such a _possessive_ mark, as if Ardyn had the _right_ to leave his mark on Noctis like that. Gladio had felt almost sick with rage, needing something to lash out at.  
  
How fucking _fortunate_ that Noctis had been the target of that anger. Like he _deserved_ it, like he deserved _any_ of it after what he had gone through.  
  
Throughout his entire life, Gladio had never felt like such an asshole.  
  
“Here you are,” a voice said from behind him, and Gladio looked up to see Ignis, watched as the other man settled down beside him.  
  
“Just admiring the view,” Gladio muttered.  
  
Ignis nodded. “Yes, I imagine seeing nothing but trees is extremely fascinating and rewarding to the mind.”  
  
Gladio snorted. “Iggy.”  
  
“You should be inside. You should be with Noct.”  
  
He should, but what would he say to the kid? What _could_ he say after what had happened earlier? How could he even begin to make any of this better when he had failed at protecting him in the first place? “I can’t,” he said, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know what to say to him.”  
  
Ignis glanced at him. “No one knows what to say to him, Gladio. Prompto is inside tripping over his own words and fumbling for conversations, but at least he’s trying. Sitting out here on your own isn’t doing anyone any good. Not yourself, and certainly not Noctis.”  
  
“I think I’ve done enough,” Gladio fought back a wince. “How can I go back in there, after what happened before? Didn’t you see how badly I handled that shit? I’m just gonna traumatize him even further if I go in.”  
  
Ignis was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was a little softer, a little kinder. “He needs _all_ of us. He’s lonely and feeling a little out of touch with reality. He doesn’t feel safe.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Gladio frowned at him. “We’ll keep him safe, he’s gotta know that. Nothing’s gonna get him again—”  
  
“No,” Ignis cut him off. “He doesn’t feel safe on his own. With himself. He feels as if he might do something...harmful if he’s left on his own. He asked for us to keep an eye on him, just in case.”  
  
Something harmful. Gods, what a fucking mess, did Noctis feel the urge to _hurt_ himself over what had happened? Gladio looked away, back out at the trees. “I’ve never had to shield him from himself before,” he muttered.  
  
“There’s a first for everything, I suppose.” Ignis leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared out ahead of them. “But we’ve handled things terribly, and we need to make it right. He thought we hated him for what he did, and perhaps he still does. He thinks we’re disgusted with him.”  
  
Of _course_ he did. It was stupid to believe he would think anything else, since this was _Noctis_. Gladio ran a hand over his face. “How can he think that?” he said after a moment. “The kid’s done nothing wrong.”  
  
“He certainly doesn’t think so.”  
  
“I really do wish you hadn’t held me back,” Gladio admitted quietly. “I wish you’d let me pound that guy’s face in when I had the chance.”  
  
Ignis was silent for a long time, and Gladio almost expected another fight to break out, but the other man only sighed. “Yes, so do I. But the chancellor _did_ have the upper hand. Any wrong move on our part and things could have taken a turn for the worst.”  
  
Gladio stared at him in disbelief. “Worse than what already happened?”  
  
“I loathe the idea that he felt the need to protect us in that way,” Ignis murmured. He was still staring out ahead of them, his eyes distant and sad. “But it’s done now, we cannot go back and change anything. Noct made a sacrifice for us, and we must respect that.”  
  
Gladio nodded, then paused. That was an odd way to put it, though, wasn’t it? And a thought struck through him, sudden and sharp, harsher than any blow, and he stared at Ignis with a growing horror. “Sacrifice?” he managed to get out. “Iggy...please tell me he wasn’t a virgin before that Ardyn guy got to him.”  
  
Ignis pulled a face, as if he had been slapped or stabbed or _something_ , quickly turning his head away, but not before Gladio could see his pained eyes. And a whole new wave of _anger_ rushed over Gladio, anger and sadness, because _damn it all Noct_ , would that kid ever catch a break?  
  
“He…” Ignis muttered hesitantly, “tries to maintain the idea that it’s nothing of import, that it wasn’t supposed to be anything special anyway.”  
  
Of course he did. Gladio closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Damn it. This kid’s gonna be the death of me.”  
  
“Yes,” Ignis sighed, then he turned to look at him. “However, you should still talk to him. You should be with him. You’re his shield, and he _needs_ you.”  
  
Gladio wanted to object to that. What was the point in being Noctis’s shield if he couldn’t actually _protect_ him? From perverted assholes, to sabertusks, to _himself_? And Gladio was also on that list, he had clearly hurt him too, Noctis’s _own_ shield had hurt him in an emotional way, the _worst_ way.  
  
What right did he have to try and protect him now?  
  
But what right did he have to abandon him simply out of self-pity? He _wanted_ to be there for him, he wanted to help him through this, and he had to help make things right. “Yeah, I will,” he said quietly.  
  
Ignis nodded. “Good.”  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
He found himself caught up in those dreams again, the ones that seemed so incredibly realistic, the ones with the sense of dread and fear, and it was as if _this_ was his life, he had never truly escaped that room, he would always be with Ardyn and have those hands on him, pulling at his hips, teeth on his neck, hot breaths in his ear.  
  
And Noctis was fighting against it, trying to push him away, telling him no, _no_ , he didn’t _want_ this, he had _never_ wanted it. He tried yelling and shoving and hitting, but nothing ever worked, his blows were like paper against Ardyn’s body, soft and ineffective, and so he was caught, he was stuck there until, until—  
  
Until he was jerking awake, pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle his cry at the last minute, but it was still startlingly loud in the tent. His breathing was heavy through his nose, far too obvious no matter how hard he tried to keep it under control, and his body was shaking, trembling with the effort of holding back his sobs.  
  
They were all awake. He could hear the way each of his friends were breathing, and he knew they were awake, probably had been for a while, and they were aware of his shame, his weakness.  
  
And yet they were still here, they were lying beside him, they weren’t _leaving_ , and he had never felt so frustrated and lonely. They were there, they were _right there_ , and he wanted to reach out, wanted to seek...something - comfort, reassurances, _anything_ \- and yet he didn’t quite dare, he didn’t _dare_ , what if there was still that risk, that _slight_ risk, that they would turn away?  
  
He just didn’t want to be left alone. Not with this. And he had no idea how to ask for that without sounding weak and pathetic.  
  
And it hurt, because they were right here, they were on either side of him, he was practically _surrounded_ by his friends, and yet it seemed like a chasm separated them all. He curled in on himself, pressed one hand to his mouth, wrapped his other arm around his stomach, hoping to make some of the loneliness fade away, but it was no substitute at all.  
  
But it was his own doing, wasn’t it? He had caused the chasm. He had pushed them away from the start, had distanced himself in the hopes that it would make things better, make things _easier_ , ignoring the way they were reaching for him, brushing away their desperate attempts to do _something_ to help. From Ignis’s efforts to try and talk to him, to Prompto trying to make things normal again, to Gladio trying to find a way to fix things; they had all been reaching out and he had turned his back on them.  
  
And they were awake, awake and waiting for him to let them in, to give them permission to help try and make things better, and so he pulled his hand away from his mouth and choked out, “Please.” _Please help me, please don’t leave me alone with this, please, please, please_ _—_  
  
A hand touched his shoulder, large and arm, and he jumped under it, more surprised than anything else. When he looked up, Gladio was leaning up on one elbow, staring down at him, his eyes soft and solemn and sad.  
  
It broke something inside him. Noctis shuffled backwards, allowed those large arms to wrap around him, hold him close, protective and comforting, and they didn’t let go even as he finally tumbled over that edge and the first sobs ripped from his chest.  
  
“I’ve got you,” Gladio was murmuring. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”  
  
Noctis squeezed his eyes shut, covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t want it,” he choked out, and it felt awful, it was _awful_ to say it out loud, but there was also some relief with it, it gave him a little more courage to continue, “I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t _want_ it—”  
  
“I know,” Gladio said. “We all know.”  
  
But he kept saying it, kept repeating it - _I didn't want it, I didn't want it_ - because, even though it was painful, even though the sobbing and forcing his voice out hurt more than anything, it was almost a freeing sort of pain. Like ripping the scab off a poorly mending wound so it could start over, so it could heal anew.  
  
And they didn’t turn him away. Gladio clung onto him as if the world would end should he ever let go, and Prompto was closer now, holding onto his bruised wrists gently, covering the marks, touching them without disgust or anger or hate. And Ignis was running his hand through his hair again, silent comfort, the way he had done when they were children, and it was nice to know that hadn’t changed, it was nice to know everything hadn’t been taken away from him because of his awful deed.  
  
“We’ve got you,” Prompto murmured. “We’re here.”  
  
And they held onto him as he let everything go, as he let go of all the things he had been struggling to bury down, as he finally stopped trying to put up a fight.  
  
They held him through that, and they didn’t let go for the rest of the night.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
There was a strange sort of numbness to his thoughts the following morning. Noctis felt only a little awkward over breakfast, all too aware of his breakdown the night before, but the others didn’t look at him in any other way than normal. They simply treated him the way they usually did.  
  
It was nice. It gave him hope. They had seen him at his lowest, and they were still there, they were sticking around.  
  
“So,” he said after a while, clearing his throat. “What now?”  
  
“We rest up,” Gladio said. “For as long as you need.”  
  
Noctis stared at him, then looked at Prompto and Ignis, who were clearly in agreement. “We don’t have the time,” Noctis said. “We’ve gotta get the car back, we’ve got other—”  
  
“So we’ll get the car back,” Prompto shrugged. “Cindy’s gonna start looking for it, see if she can tow it back for us. Meanwhile, _you_ get to rest up, like the big guy said.”  
  
“Properly, this time,” Ignis said quietly. “We handled things poorly, Noct, and we understand if you can’t forgive us for that.” Noctis opened his mouth to speak, to tell him to shut up - there was nothing to forgive them _for_ , they had _all_ been a mess - but Ignis held his hand up, silenced him. “We’ll do things differently this time,” he continued. “We’ll try and do it in a better way.”  
  
“So, whatever you need, yeah?” Gladio said. “Whatever you need, and whatever you wanna do. _You’re_ in charge of this, you’re in control.”  
  
Ignis nodded. “And we’ll be with you every step of the way.”  
  
Noctis ducked his head, trying to hide his grin, scratching at the back of his neck, feeling shy and honoured and amused and cared for. “You guys rehearse this whole thing, or something?” he joked.  
  
Gladio snorted. “Smartass.”  
  
“Dumbass,” Noctis grinned at him. He felt lighter, he felt significantly lighter. It was still there in his head, the creeping shame and the self-disgust, but knowing he was allowed to feel that way, knowing they wouldn’t think any different of him if he did, if he had his bad moments, knowing they would be there to help him through it—that made him feel lighter.  
  
And that left one more thing.  
  
“Can I have a potion?” he asked quietly.  
  
There was a surprised pause, and then Ignis was reaching into their box of spare potions, pulling one out and sitting down beside him as he offered the bottle. Noctis took it, turning it around in his hands, before he let his gaze drop to his bruised wrists.  
  
He had wanted to keep the bruises as a reminder to never mess up again the way he had, he had wanted the reminder of his shame, of how disgusting he was. He had wanted himself to suffer for it. And he still did, in a way.  
  
But that was also exactly what Ardyn wanted, wasn’t it? That cruel smile of his, those eyes, they had said more than actions ever could. He had wanted to leave his mark on him, both physically and mentally, had wanted him to remember, he had enjoyed the idea.  
  
And Noctis didn’t want those marks on him any longer, he wanted to be wiped clean of them, forget that they had ever been there. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, he wouldn’t leave his _brands_ on him, like he was Ardyn’s _possession_.  
  
So he opened the bottle and downed the entire potion.  
  
In an hour or so, the bruises would be gone, wiped away from his skin as if they had never been there. He didn’t know how long it would take for the internal wounds to heal, but it was worth a try, right? He didn’t have to let himself drown in it anymore, and the others would help keep him afloat when he struggled.  
  
And it was worth a try, to fight for them the way they fought for him.  
  
And maybe, _maybe_ , it was even worth fighting for himself too.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to point out any mistakes/inconsistencies/grammar issues/etc. And, again, feel free to suggest any other additional tags.
> 
> ivorydice.tumblr.com


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